Justin swallowed, but his mouth was dry. As he climbed over the waist-high gates decorated with sunbursts (that looked eerily like spiders on their webs), his mind screamed at him to turn back. In the dark, every shadow was hiding a vicious beast and every rustle of the trees signaled an impending attack. He leaned back against the gate and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, trying to calm himself. There was nothing here. It was just an old cemetery, no matter what his friends thought, and he was going to prove it to them. 1
For as long as Justin could remember there had been stories about this graveyard: about how it was haunted, how two people had hung themselves here, how a girl had been mauled by a mysterious animal in a cave, about an adjacent cemetery that no one ever found twice and was never in the same place. Justin didn’t believe a word of it, but his friends did.2
“Honestly, guys, there’s nothing there,” he had said two days ago. 3
“Oh, yeah? Well, what about my brother, Brian? He swears he saw a demon in that place,” Tailor shot back. “What about him?”4
“He probably just saw a cat or something and freaked out,” Justin said. “I’m sorry, Tailor, but we all know that your brother’s not that brave…” He looked to Don and Mark, who stood awkwardly off to the side. “Right?” 5
Don shuffled his feet, kicked at a pebble, zipped up his black sweater, ran a hand through his blond hair and looked everywhere but at Justin and Tailor. Mark adjusted his headphones and frowned down at his iPod for a moment; then he stuck it into the pocket of his tan sweater and looked up suddenly like he’d only just realized someone had been talking to him.6
He pushed a headphone off one ear. “Sorry, man, I didn’t hear what you said.”7
Justin rolled his eyes. Lair. 8
“Well,” Tailor said, “If you’re so confident there’s nothing there, why don’t you prove it?” 9
“What do you mean?”10
Tailor smiled. “If there’s nothing to be scared of in there, then why don’t you go in yourself? Alone? Then we’ll all see how brave you are.” 11
“Fine,” Justin said. “I will.”12
Looking back, that probably hadn’t been his smartest move ever, but there was nothing he could do now. And besides, all he had to do was stick around for ten minutes and poke around a bit. It couldn’t be that hard, right? And there was nothing here after all; so his only worry was getting caught by one of the owners or a policeman. He pulled a cross necklace out from under his shirt and let it rest against his chest, and then patted his pocket to make sure his mother’s rosary beads were still there.13
Justin glanced around again, scanning the area for anyone who might be on patrol. Almost as old as the stories of death and the extra cemetery was the belief that Satanists came here to offer up their sacrifices. Eventually that belief had caused the area to be patrolled by police, and you couldn’t get in without consent from the owners.14
But so far Justin hadn’t come across a single policeman. Tailor had said she’d take care of it, but honestly, what had they done to make it so easy for him to get in? 15
A shiver ran up his spine, and he glanced at his watch. He’d better take a quick look around like he’d said he would; Tailor would know if he hadn’t.16
Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the gates and walked deeper into the cemetery. He could hear running water and figured it was a nearby stream. There appeared to be very few people buried here, but Justin wasn’t sure if that was unusual for a cemetery in the middle of the woods. There were small rows of nearly identical tombstones proclaiming names in big block letters: Southwick… Harrison… Palmer…17
After seven minutes and nothing unusual, Justin turned around to head back and saw something out of the corner of his eye: a body hanging from a tree. His heart skipped a beat—panic filled him—he spun back around, ready to scream—and saw only a tree with a branch that was broken towards the end, maybe as tall as a full grown man, hanging on by a piece of bark.18
Justin leaned against a tombstone, trying to calm his racing heart: it felt like it was about ready to explode.19
It was just a tree branch…my mind’s only playing tricks on me…there’s nothing here…nothing unusual…20
After another minute, his heart rate had returned to normal, but Justin had had enough. He started toward the gates. Halfway there he remembered the cave, the one the girl had supposedly been killed in. 21
Damn it, he thought. Tailor will never let me forget it if I don’t check out the cave. He stood there, battling with himself for a moment before he moved deeper into the woods toward the cave. He only had two minutes left anyway, most of which would be spent getting to the gates. All he had to do really was take a peek inside…not that hard, really…there was nothing there after all…22
He reached it with a minute to spare. The cave was small, such a contrast to the towering trees that covered the graveyard with their branches. 23
A shiver ran violently up and down his spine; so violently, that he actually flinched. The mouth of the cave, though it was small, suddenly looked ominous. Swallowing thickly, Justin had to use all his willpower to force himself to step inside. 24
Step inside…just one step inside…then you can go… He repeated that to himself, clutching the cross around his neck and plunging his other hand into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the rosary beads there and pull them out. He wound and unwound them around his fingers, and then clutched them so tightly that his nails began to dig into his palms as he stepped inside.25
The moment he entered panic filled him. He spun around—and something jumped on his back and pinned him to the ground. A snarl and the smell of sulfur, accompanied by a breath of smoke filled his senses. Claws dug into his back. 26
Justin twisted fiercely, causing the creature to tumble to the ground in surprise. He jumped to his feet at the same time it did. The wolf-like creature stared at him with fiery orange eyes. Drool dripped from its fangs, and every breath was accompanied with a puff of smoke, and the smell of sulfur…or was that coming from its matted fur? 27
It lunged. Justin thrust an arm forward to block it—its jaws closed around his arm—then the beast howled and leapt back from him. It was shaking its head, snarling, and suddenly he smelt burning flesh. There were lines of scorch marks around its jaw. His eyes flew to his hand.28
It was the arm his mother’s rosary beads were wrapped around.29
The creature was rubbing its snout with its leg, whimpering. This was his chance. 30
Justin fled the cave. There was a roar, and then he heard a set of pounding feet alongside his own. He pushed himself to move faster.31
He flew through the graveyard. There was a gate nearby to an adjacent cemetery. His eyes widened. As he approached, he blinked, and suddenly it was twenty feet from where it had been. The beast was right behind him. Justin skidded to a stop, twisting to avoid it. It crashed into a tombstone, flipped over it and hit the ground. No sooner had Justin started running than it was back on its feet and giving chase. 32
He neared the gate. He couldn’t tell if he was hearing the beast’s labored breath or his own anymore. He reached the entrance, placed his hand on the metal, jumped—33
Teeth sank into his leg. Justin screamed. The beast wrenched him away from the gate and dragged him along the ground. He tried to dig his fingers into the dirt and grasped at the grass, but nothing held. 34
“Tailor! Tailor!” he screamed. If anyone could save him it would be Taylor; she’d come flying over that gate like a demon from hell and beat the wolf to death with her bare hands if she had to. 35
But no one came, and the wolf kept dragging him. Justin twisted around. He slammed his fist into the wolf’s nose, and it snarled with pain, nose smoking. It let go of his leg, but before Justin could scramble to his feet, it lunged and ripped into his wrist. Blood gushed onto the ground. Justin screamed, tears running down his face. He kicked at the wolf, but it bit into his leg again and pulled. 36
Unable to grasp the rosary beads, they slipped from his hand onto the ground and were soon out of reach. Justin clutched his wrist with his other hand, desperate to stop the bleeding, but the blood squeezed easily between his fingers, and Justin lost consciousness as they entered the cave.
Author notes
For "The Party Platter" contest by Trinity Dragon. Option #2.
EDIT: Revised slightly. I still can't get that damn ending right.
A contest entry
- The Party Platter by Trinity Dragon.
338 points, ended October 2, 2007, 6 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - The Supernatural and Paranormal by Len Shadow.
125 points, ended January 10, 43 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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In the first paragraph i wouldn't have the adverbs "oddly" and "eerily" so close together. But everything else was great! I was getting scared for Justin. You describe things very well but not in a way that sounds like your talking too much.
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Great thrills, so-so character and structure
You build the thrills and suspense wonderfully in this story. The character of Justin could do with fleshing out a bit more before he takes on the challenge. He's rather non-descript as it stands. The structure and flow are out of kilter, but I don't think I can improve on Yoshi's comments on this point.
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This is what I would call 'the e-brake ending'.
You spent your whole time moving forward through this story and picked up a ton of momentum, but then you were looking for an ending and slammed on the brakes.
My advice?
Keep everything up until the end of this paragraph:
He ran toward the gates, the sunbursts looking more like spider webs than ever. He couldn’t tell if he was hearing the beast’s labored breath or his own anymore. He reached the gates—in one swift motion he hopped the fence—his feet hit the dirt, and he was off again—this time, however, he heard only the pounding of his own feet and only his gasping breaths.
Then, keep writing until you can bring the story to a graceful end. If it takes 5,000 words or more to do it, then so be it.
If you want to report events that actually occurred, then you can be expected to be held to word counts.
However, as an author of fiction, you need to write stories out to the length they want to go. By that I mean writing the story out until it comes to a logical conclusion.
For this story to finish, the boy must somehow defeat the werefolf. For it to finish satisfactorily, that can not happen all in one scene.
Try this ...
Read what you wrote and picture it all in your mind ... all up to the point I noted above.
Next ... let the movie roll forward in your mind and record the events in such a manner that anyone would believe they were there - as you did in the beginning of your story.
If you do that, then I believe you will find yourself with a really good short story, or perhaps a novel.
Again, I must stress, don't allow your writing to be contained within a word count - all for the hope of entering a contest.
You might go over and not be able to enter this story in this contest, but you also might find yourself a story you can sell, and that truly is the goal of all writers - to write something that will sell and will be remembered.
All food for though, and I do hope it helps.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 3, ending: 2, dialog: 4, characters: 4.
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'Justin fled the cave. There was a roar, and then he heard a set of pounding feet alongside his own. He pushed himself to move faster, faster, faster, faster, fasterfasterfasterfaster—' I had someone tell me once that the repetition of words was a waste of space and readers time. I can see where in this case it might be different, but I wanted to give you a heads up on it.
Once question though, why if he didn't believe in the tales that where told about this place did he bring items to ward against evil?
My only other suggestion would be to use smell in the story before getting to the cave. Lots of oppurnities to use it.
Congrats on the silver.
Brooke
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LOVE.
This is a really good story. I <3 it ^.^
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Sugoi!
SUGOI! Wonderful! * Is in total awe *beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Good Read
Story is a natural hook, something eveyone's been through or thought of. Horror in familiar things is the best horror.
The inner dialog flows well and seems natural. The descriptions are often cliches, but oddly they also seem to be the "right" cliches.
I found it interesting that Justin claims he didn't believe the stories, but brought a cross and rosary with him.
The main criticisms would be the simplicity and looseness of the plot and the depth of Justin's character, which I realize are difficult to develop in such a short story. The rosary comes out of nowhere and seems out of character, and maybe there should be a hint of why the wolf-like creature might be in the graveyard.
beginning: 4, language: 3, plot: 3, ending: 2, dialog: 4, characters: 2.
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Loved it
This story really drags you into it. I felt like I was Justin. It sets the scene really well. I wanted it to keep going so much. The descriptions were so full that I could picture it in my head. I loved the way you made it seem like he was going faster and increasing speed by not seperating the words. It was a really good effect that helped make it that much more believable.I feel it ended a little bit abruptly. Keep writing because this is really good. I'm gonna read more of your work.beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 2, dialog: 3, characters: 4.
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4.5/5
First paragraph grips the reader. The descriptions of the sunbursts on the gates just nabbed be rightaway, especially with its contrast to the darkness surrounding Justin.
You portray the "haunted place" that people create very well. As I read in another story of yours, your use of dialogue is satisfying and well placed.
The action jumps out suddenly, powerfully. I'm gripping the edge of my seat, wanting to know what will happen next.
You are worried how the ending is but you don't need to be. The climax is met with the action sequence of the creature and Justin. Overall, good job!
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Hmmmm.....?
It was alright, but nowhere near as gripping as 'The Dark Gate' and it wasn't as, 'plotted'. I liked that one better, and PLEASE write some more. PLEASE!!!!!! But don't rush yourself! I'd hate for you to ruin it due to my demanding...beginning: 2, language: 2, plot: 2, ending: 1, dialog: 2, characters: 2.
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The only problem I have is a grammatical error.
"...faster, faster, faster, faster, fasterfasterfasterfaster—" You might try spaces.
Anyhoo, good horror thing. It wasn't so much a pleasure to read, but that's just because of the genre.
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Well, the bit about "fasterfasterfaster" was done on purpose. I was trying to convey that he was pushing himself and that his thoughts were kind of frantic. You know how some people start talking so fast that their words flow together when they're scared or nervous. That's what I was trying to get across there.
Well, I thought that you might not like the genre (I wasn't entirely sure what you called "dark"; for me, this wouldn't be dark, but tastes are different for everyone), but the story was begging to be written. It wouldn't let me think of anything else!
Thank you for your comment!
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