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 A Story to be Told #1

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skippy
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Male Number of posts : 13
Age : 28
Location : Nebraska
Age : 16
Writing forte/s : horror
Registration date : 2006-08-11

PostSubject: A Story to be Told #1   Fri Aug 11, 2006 8:04 am

Krista and Thomas. They lived in the small town of Copeland in the year of 1992 and were childhood sweethearts. They went to school holding hands, went to all the dances together, and even sat next to each other at lunch. This was a big thing, for 5th graders. Krista was ten and Tom had just turned the big 1-1. They’re lives were perfect, happy families, had fun at school, and most importantly they were popular. All of this changed. It was one mistake. Just one. That mistake lost them their happiness, innocence and for one unlucky one, their life. This is the story of their memory. Of what they once were.
One main character I left out. Some may say it was his fault that Krista and Tom turned out the way they did. Some say he wasn’t even there to begin with. Although I will not leave him out of this story, for I think that he played a bigger part in their tale then most believe. His name was Allen Charter but his friends called him Chuck. Why they did that, is a 5th grade mystery but it was his name. Chuck was Tom’s best friend. They were a three-some, Chuck, Krista and Tom. If you found one, the other two would be close by.
Yet all of this tragedy could’ve been avoided if those three kids had resisted the urge to visit the cornfield. The cornfield was the town’s big secret. It was owned by a Mr. Berkley, better known as the creepy man down the road. I have researched Mr. Berkley and found nothing. No records of his existence at all. Other then the Thomas Berkley from 1907, yes I’m sure you noticed the similarity between the names of our young Tom and the dead Mr. Berkley but as far as I can tell its only a coincidence. The Mr. Berkley from 1907 had first owned the cornfield. His best friend who lived just a few miles away, murdered him, or that’s what everyone says. They found him torn to pieces in that cornfield. His body was destroyed. They only identified his torso by the handkerchief he always wore around his neck, although there was no head to keep it in place, it still stayed, drenched in blood. No one pinned the murder on Mr. Berkley’s friend but everyone knows that he did it. I suppose over the years the name of the Mr. Berkley from 1992 might have changed and that’s why I can’t find a match but I still wonder. Is it a coincidence? Something I will probably never know.
Back to the story of our three children.
It was all Chuck’s idea. He had told Tom and Krista one day over lunch the story of the cornfield that he had heard from one of the big 6th graders. According to Chuck’s source over 20 children have disappeared all having entered the cornfield.
Chuck explained, “They go in, but they never come out. But it has to be dark outside; any one can enter the cornfield during the daytime. Ben,” being Chuck’s source,” said that you could go in a group all holding hands and someone in the middle will have vanished. I think there’s a creature that lives in there and eats whatever enters.”
“But wouldn’t people notice if the cornfield ate children?” asked Krista after consideration.
“I don’t think it’s the cornfield that eats the people, it’s probably some animal,” Tom explained.
“No. Not an animal, a creature of some sort, something that creeps silently to snatch you from behind,” Chuck explained more excitedly.
Tom said, “Chuck, get over it. It’s just some stupid story the big kids told you to scare all of us. You can’t really believe that load of crud.”
Chuck was hurt. He thought his friends would like the story. Sure he didn’t really believe it all happened but it’s a cool idea. Now more then ever he wanted to show Tom that it’s not just a stupid horror story, its real. And who really knew? Maybe there really was a creature that stole little kids in the middle of the night that now sleeps in the cornfield. Every town has to have a scary story to tell around the campfire. Why can’t it be real? Why couldn’t Tom just accept the fact and actually listen to him without putting him down?
Chuck stammered, “Well, I thought, well its, cool. I bet you wouldn’t even dare to go there at night!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re daring me to go into a “haunted” cornfield at night? What are we? 2nd graders?” Tom coolly replied.
“You’re just scared,” Chuck turns to Krista, “I would expect something like this from you but come on Tom, if it’s just a cornfield why do you keep avoiding it?”
Krista looks to Chuck, “From me? What do you mean?” she looks to Tom for reassurance, “Like Tom said, its made up, a story. We could go there. Easy no problem.”
Peer pressure is a very sneaky thing. You know its there but you don’t know how to stop it from happening. You don’t want to back down from a challenge but you don’t want to crack under the pressure either. It takes a very strong person to deny the pressure from a friend but for Tom when it came to both the people closest to him putting on the pressure of course he gave in.
“Sure Krista, we could do it. We all could go down there no problem. But it’s just a big waste of time. Let’s just,”
But before Tom could put it to an end Chuck had an idea.
“Let’s all go, tomorrow night. We’ll meet at my house around 8:00 since it’s closest.” Then Chuck suddenly got up and left.
Krista looked to Tom, “You don’t think its real do you?”
“Nah, its just a stupid story. Chuck…he’s just, I dunno, not been himself recently. Lets just go.”
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Feel free to be tough on me with the comments, i would probably prefer it that way
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skippy
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Male Number of posts : 13
Age : 28
Location : Nebraska
Age : 16
Writing forte/s : horror
Registration date : 2006-08-11

PostSubject: Story to be Told #2   Fri Aug 11, 2006 8:05 am

On October 9th, 1907, Christopher Wallas was Thomas Berkley’s best friend. They grew up together in a small town. On the day Tom died Christopher, better known as Chuck, had seemed a little weird to the neighbors. He had been distant all morning, ate nothing, and all he did all day was sit in his rocking chair staring at the wall. He swayed back and forth, back and forth, barely breathing. He had been scaring his wife and two daughters. Not saying a word to them. Just staring. Rocking back and forth, back and forth.
Sunset came at 8:09. Once no sign of the sun was left Chuck moved away from his chair and walked out his door. Never saying a word to his family who were busy making dinner. His neighbors last saw him walking due south towards the home of Thomas Berkley. Less then an hour later they found Tom’s body decapitated and demolished past recognition. The Wallas family had disappeared. All 4 of them gone without a trace. No one saw them leave. None of their belongings were missing. Dinner was still on the table. Sitting in the middle of the room was a doll, believed to have belonged to one of the girls although no one had seen it before. On the doll’s dress was a small bloody handprint.
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It was 7:56pm when Tom and Krista arrived at Chuck’s house. They quietly knocked on the door. Rushing footsteps came to them and suddenly it swung open. There stood Chuck’s mother. Only standing 5’3 but a very intimidating woman. You never want to cross Mrs. Charter.
Tom asked “Is Chuck home?”
“No, I’m afraid he’s sick tonight.” Carefully she added, “But he did tell me to tell you to go ahead without him, although he never said where.”
“May we speak to him?” Krista asked
“No,” she snapped, “he doesn’t want any visitors. Where were you three going to go?”
Tom lied with ease, “Oh, just the arcade. We had wanted to all go together but I guess Krista and I will have to go by ourselves,” he looks to Krista, “How does that sound?”
Krista never wanted to go to the cornfield in the first place and if she had to, she would rather go with more than less. She could’ve backed down right there, right then, but Chuck’s words still rang in her head. “I would expect something like this from you.” So instead she nodded and smiled towards Tom and both agreed silently that even though they had nothing to prove, no reason to go, that they would, together. Whether to prove Chuck wrong or just to rid themselves of childish ideas it didn’t matter. They decided together to leave, at night, by themselves, for the cornfield.
They could see Mr. Berkley’s poorly constructed house from Chuck’s. It was blue, or used to be. Paint was coming off, shingles missing, chimney collapsed, and the whole thing stood crooked. It seemed scarier then the cornfield. Ominous, almost as though it were staring you down. Large empty windows that never seemed to let in light, and a crooked door that swayed with the wind. Surprisingly enough, all children and adults stayed away from that house. No one knew if Mr. Berkley was alive anymore.
Although everyone stayed away from the house, it seemed more and more have been headed for the cornfield. Krista and Tom were one of the many who saw the secrets it held. Those who left the cornfield with their lives were in worse condition then the dead. Most never moved again. Just sat all day, starved themselves to death from never eating. Some had family members who force fed them but it was like the family had to choose between pulling the plug or not. A rare few are still alive and moving. Six to be exact. Six out of thirty-four. Those six have never been able to sleep again. Nightmares haunt their dreams. Some days they wish that they had died, no matter how painful it might had been for living was much worse. Out of those six only one has actually seen the thing that lives in the cornfield. The rest only heard screams, screams of agony. And the ripping and gnawing.
It was a long silent walk for Krista and Tom. They could only hear the wind whistling a strange tune. Darkness fell upon them as if a blanket had been dropped. Together they held a steady march to their doom. Slowly as possible they saw the cornfield approaching. All seeming too innocent for what it held. Once they got within reaching distance Krista stopped. She didn’t care what Chuck said about her any more, she was not going inside that cornfield.
Krista begged, “We can leave now. Just forget all of this. Tell Chuck we went inside, found nothing and came home. Please let’s just stop.”
Tom couldn’t lie to Chuck. No matter how dumb he seemed at times, he was his friend. But Tom couldn’t just go inside the cornfield and leave Krista alone out here. They must stick together. A few feet away was a fence, separating the house from the field.
“Here,” suggested Tom, “ we can sit on this fence for a while, see nothing but the cornfield sway, and go home. Ok?”
Still rattled to stay from having near the cornfield Krista obliged.
Together they sat. And waited. Looking down the rows of corn. Neither having a watch at the time decided that in a few minutes, or what felt like minutes they would leave.
Call it woman’s intuition but somehow Krista knew they were not meant to be there. That they should leave as soon as possible. She held her ground though. Grip tightening as the night progressed.
Distantly they heard it. Just a rustle, nothing more, nothing less.
“It’s coming,” she murmured. She looked at her arms, they had broken out in goose flesh.
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skippy
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Writing forte/s : horror
Registration date : 2006-08-11

PostSubject: Story to be Told 3   Fri Aug 11, 2006 8:06 am

Tom Berkley had a wife. Elizabeth Berkley. She was a fine woman, smart, kind and beautiful. Elizabeth watched as her husband worked every day out in the cornfield for little profit of their own. She enjoyed being married to him. She enjoyed life. She was pregnant. The day she told Tom was the day before he died. They were ecstatic. So the day after Tom was told of his child he was not surprised to see his friend come out to his house unexpected. Elizabeth was cleaning in the bedroom but fell silent when someone had arrived. A sudden chill fell upon the house. She slowly pressed her ear against the closed door.
Tom greeted, “Hey, did you hear the…are you ok?”
Silence was Tom’s answer. Then suddenly violent sounds of pushing, grabbing.
Tom cried out, “Hey let me go you bastard…get away!”
Then a soft thump and crack of a head being split, Tom crumbled to the ground. Then was dragged towards some unknown destination.
Quickly, quietly so as not to be heard, Elizabeth searched for a weapon. All she could think of was the knives in the kitchen. Slowly she opened the door and looked outside. Silence. She ran into the kitchen grabbed a knife and went on after her husband. She came out in time to see Tom disappear in the corn. Realizing that this may be her last day alive she got a something to write with and paper, then she wrote. She wrote about being pregnant, and about Tom’s last moments. Then she wrote that she was going to get her husband, whether she dies or not.
She was never seen again
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Against her instinct, Krista waited until Tom had decided he had enough. After a short amount of time, another sound from the distance, closer this time. She was done with this.
Quickly she grabbed Tom’s hand and jumped off the fence, dragging Tom with her. “Tom, lets go now! I can’t stand it being here, waiting to be taken away, let’s go, please!”
Tom stood his ground, “No, its probably just a raccoon, calm down, we’ll be fine.”
Krista knew it wasn’t a raccoon, but something else. Something bigger. Something coming right for them.
“Tom, if you don’t go now, I will! I don’t care about proving something! All I care about is getting out of here!” Tears brimmed her eyes.
Tom whispered, “Keep quiet Krista, we don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.” He looked around for a few moments and turned back to Krista, “Fine we’ll leave but I’m not telling Chuck that…”
Tom was cut off by a close stirring of corn. He and Krista both froze. They heard a clicking noise, impossible for any animal known to them to make.
Then they saw it. A human form coming towards them. But it didn’t move like a human, it moved like a spider. Legs and arms marching at odd angles. It was wearing clothes, ripped and stained. At the time they couldn’t wrap it around their heads what the stains were but deep down they knew what it was. But the worst of it was its face. Looking at it they could only see eyes. Eyes that seemed to suck them in, so they couldn’t move. Deep and black, a staring hate was all that they could see. But if they looked closer they could see the hunger that lurks in the depths of the black.
Time slowed. Krista grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled him towards the road they had so mistakenly came on. Tom was immovable. He froze, having looked to long into the dark eyes. A kaleidoscope of emotions ran across his face, ending in sheer terror. Although she didn’t want to, she let go of his hand and ran, faster then she had ever run before. She ran until the screams came. Turned back, took a step towards the cornfield then turned around again running blind with tears. She ran to Chuck’s house and pounded on the door. Salty tears falling down her face. She waited then screamed pounding on the door waiting for a friend that was not there. A neighbor came out to her, worried about what she was screaming and crying about.
“Where are they! Where did they go!” she yelled between sobs.
The neighbor not understanding asked stupidly who she was talking about.
“The Charters! I need them! I need them!” Tears falling faster down her face.
“I’m sure they’re fine, now don’t cry, why don’t I take you to your parents and then we can figure this all out.”
“No! Tom…he, I just need to talk to Chuck!” she looked at the house, “Chuck get out here!”
It was then when her strength gave in. She collapsed in the neighbors arms, sobbing until she could cry no more. Soothingly the neighbor took her into his house and called her parents who were worried sick. The close families of Chuck and Tom were missing. All having disappeared. A few weeks after the incident Krista came back to school. Continued living her life at day. Reliving the terrors at night. She lived when others had died. She saw something that would make adults grow insane. Is she insane now 14 yrs later? Some say she is, I disagree. She is one of the few who have seen the true horrors of this world and moved past it. That takes a great deal of sanity. What am I you may ask? Well I am just the story teller. I am just a person who gives a warning, a person who sees things others can not, or will not. I am a believer. And I always will be.
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PostSubject: Re: A Story to be Told #1   Sat Aug 12, 2006 4:42 am

i like the way it feels like the narrator is some sort of detective, investigating the story after its happened.

when i read this i can imagine him sitting in his office with a beige file open and reading from it to his director or something

its a good story too, i like the way its replaying itself from the first story; it creates suspense cos you feel like you know whats gunna happen

very well done :]
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PostSubject: Re: A Story to be Told #1   Sat Aug 12, 2006 6:15 am

it would be class if that was a movie Very Happy took me a while but i got through it.

Ideas if it was a movie:

You could have her going back to kill the creature Razz
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PostSubject: Re: A Story to be Told #1   Wed Aug 16, 2006 4:51 pm

if it was a movie you could have it flicking between the past and present stories

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skippy
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PostSubject: Re: A Story to be Told #1   Thu Aug 17, 2006 1:04 pm

yea thats how i always picture my stories, as movies first, i see it happening, i view it from a camera angle and describe what it can see, it actually kinda helps me in some ways
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