Niavete in BlackDing Dong went the doorbell. Mr. Richards opened it with a flat expression on his face. His sweatered gut pressed against the screen door.Niavete in Black by BarbecuedIguana
"Isn't it a bit early for Trick-R-Treat," he asked.
"No, Mr. Richards," I said, "We're girl scouts. These are our uniforms. We're delivering some cookies you ordered last month. Thin Mints, Dos-i-does and a box of Samoas."
He scratched his head and stifled a yawn, "I don't remember ordering anything, but sure. Let me get my wallet."
He opened the door for Julie and me. Inside, Mr. Richards turned towards the kitchen and as he did I pulled Mommy's taser from the box of thin mints and stung him in the butt. The electricity crackled like lightning and Mr. Richards leapt forward, slamming his head into the bannister. Wide-eyed with disbelief he swirled around, took three steps and collapsed against an upright piano, making a hellish racket as his elbows came down on the keys. By the time he hit the floor he was totally out cold.
"Holy Cow," said Julie,
LobsterDon't look at me,” said Jill, “I don't know what to do with it!” The lobster lay on its back, head and tail rattling across the metal rim of the saucepan. My wife had done everything short of whacking him with a hammer to get him into the boiling water. For the lobster this was water ballet in a kiddie pool, and at one and a half pounds he - or “Po” as my daughter had dubbed him - was also the shrimpiest of the four.Lobster by BarbecuedIguana
“Maybe we should just buy a Dutch oven,” she shrugged.
A calculator lit up in my mind. “No, There's got to be some way to cook them without spending any more money.” I had just returned from a business trip to Maine where I bought these lobsters to make a good impression on my clients. They, being in the tourist trap business, felt obliged to take me to the most expensive market in Bangor. Whereas I, being in the travel agency business, felt obliged to effortlessly hand over large amounts of cash with unshaking hands, j
How to make the world a better place.*brain fart*How to make the world a better place. by jollyjack
1: The managerial lead behind any software patch or update must have their home address made public at the time of its release.
2: A metal plate must be placed beneath the doorway of all shops and stores, which will become electrified if anyone should stop within them.
3: You must pass a spatial awareness test before being permitted to use a shopping trolley.
4: Use of marijuana must become compulsory in Russia.
5: Nurses must receive the same wage as the players of any professional sport.
6: Politicians must have experience working in the field that they want to govern.
7: The entire staff and their families of any company that employs cold calling are to be executed.
8: Firearms must be made to look like giant, purple dildos.
9: News outlets may only ever publish or broadcast facts, not opinions.
10: Someone must explain why religious texts should be taken more seriously than fairy tales.
Add your own!
This is my entry for Memnalar's 2014 Camera Obscura Halloween Fiction Contest.
Now, can I say a little something about the story itself? Writing this thing was a strange experience because I didn't want to write it but the story itself wanted to be written. It started back in the summer with news of the two girls in Waukesha, Wisconsin trying to kill a third girl in an attempt to summon the Slenderman. It's cliché to say that your heart sinks when you hear about things like this but sometimes a cliché is a cliché because we have no better way to say it. At about the same time I remember hearing the Black Sabbath song NIB (which stands for Nativity in Black) on the radio and thinking about Waukesha and saying to myself, “It's more like Niavete in Black. Hey, that'd make a good title.”
Unfortunately, the story I came up with was little more than a rebroadcast of the news from Waukesha. Except this time the bicycler doesn't stop them, and the two evil girls discover the hard way that this is just not the way the world works.
Eh? Still don't like it.
So I shelved it. The contest came around and I was given my picture. It threw some sparks but they resulted in a 9,000 word rough draft about something totally different which honestly just wasn't very good. October has been an incredibly busy month. I couldn't think of any way to shrink 9,000 words into 3,000 words and so I said – screw it – no Halloween story this year. Then news of Jesusween hit the interwebs. Once again my heart sank, but it also started me thinking about Waukesha and just how much worse everything becomes when the two little girls are not evil little girls trying to summon forth a demonic entity but good little girls trying to heal a broken community.
I was busy. I'd moved on to other things. I did not have the time.
In the week leading up to the deadline, my local classic rock station chose to play NIB twice during the drive home. During the second listen, while stuck in traffic, I fist bumped the wheel and said, “Fine! Enough already. I get the hint. I'll write your damn story.”
There it occurred to me that while it's easy to criticize Becky and Julie Lawson for being niave I had to wonder: who was I just talking to?
So with two days to deadline I jumped behind the computer, brought up a few Black Sabbath albums on the YouTube and hammered it out, doing both a rough and a final draft over the course of an afternoon. Do I like it?
I'm not sure. It's amazing just how creepy a story can be despite having no supernatural elements in it but a whole lot of Biblical ones. There's also the subject matter which I know will be ruffling somebody's feathers somewhere. I hate it when that happens, but you know what? It happens.
The Spider Queen's Door For as long as I could remember, the field by my neighborhood was empty. The ground was too soft for construction equipment, and the soil wouldn’t nurture anything but weeds. Only two dead trees, surrounded by mushrooms, broke up the emptiness of the field.Tobaeus
The owner couldn’t do anything with it, so he left it empty. My parents wouldn’t let me play over there. They called it trespassing. My friends called it something else.
They said the trees were the doorway to her cobweb kingdom. They said if you went between them she’d catch you up and eat you. No one ever found the kids who wandered into the Spider Queen’s home.
We never played in the field, even though it would have been perfect for any game we could think of. But no one wanted to risk death, or worse, getting grounded. So we played in the streets and driveways and broke up games whenever a car drove through. And we n
Insects“Thank you for coming in,” said the interviewer, as they settled down on opposite sides of the desk. “It’s Mr. Carlton, isn’t it? May I call you Paul?”SCFrankles
“Yes. Yes, that’s fine,” said Carlton, attempting to relax.
The interviewer checked the piece of paper in front of him, and looked up again. “Well, Paul, perhaps we could start with you telling me a little about why you would be suitable for the job.”
“Right,” said Carlton. “Um, well, I’ve worked in security for 15 years, first for—”
The interviewer interrupted him. “Actually, it’s not security work.”
“Isn’t it?” Carlton looked bewildered. “But the advert mentioned intruders and keeping out unwelcome visitors…”
The interviewer smiled a little. “That is true. But we’re talking more about pest control.”
Carlton’s face fell. “Right. Well, I’m sorry fo
All Hallow's Tales Contest 2014 - CAMERA OBSCURAYOU HAVE THREE DAYS LEFT TO ENTER. ENTRY DEADLINE IS MIDNIGHT OCTOBER 25. (That means if you send me your entry on 11:59pm CST, Saturday October 25, you're good. Yes, you have Saturday to finish your entry.)
Entry Gallery is now open!
This contest is generously sponsored by prize donors and:
:iconcrliterature: :iconpersistent-practice: :iconthewrittenrevolution:
Ghouls and Ghasts and ne'er do wells, welcome once again to the LaBORatory for our annual celebration of prosaic chills in this, the season of all things spooky.
Have you ever ran across a photo, perhaps lying on the sidewalk, or tucked between the pages of the family Bible, a photo so strange that your mind just couldn't help but to form a story around it?
Dear writer, let this contest be the dusty attic, the abandoned parking lot, the spooky junk store with stacks of forgotten photos just waiting to have their story to