Got to know about the quick tales contest from Cynic. The following was my entry. Post is longer than usual...lemme know what you think...The theme given for the entry was Journal.
-38-
He couldn’t see much in the dark room. The eight year old wanted to play with the big boys. They wanted him to prove his worth. Now, he was stuck in this damp, uninhabited supposedly haunted cottage in the middle of the night for 3 hours. He could see a solitary bulb hanging from the ceiling. He felt the wall for a semblance of a switch. After 10 minutes of frantic search, the room was lit, albeit only partially. The room was barren. An old tattered journal was lying on the floor. Strangely enough it was nailed to the floor.
He tried to make himself comfortable on the floor. The light was just about enough to read the brittle yellow pages. The cover had 38 written on it. The texture however was lumpy and looked like the paint had dried long time ago. It was impossible to lift the diary off the floor. He could not fathom why anyone would nail a diary to the floor. The diary had a single entry. “Oh well” he thought, “The diary would help him kill some time at least”.
5 Aug, 1938:
I can see this short, stout boy entering my room. The townsfolk still think my ghost haunts this place. Ignorant fools. I wonder why someone in their right mind will even look at this shattered place let alone enter it. I am sick and tired of these people. They have no right to barge into my space! I am going to teach them a lesson they are never going to forget. This kid is getting on my nerves now. He is planning to sleep on the floor of MY room. I can’t let this happen. He will pay for this…
The kid broke into a cold sweat. His knew it was just a prank by the older guys. He could hear the wind blow through the hollow walls of this godforsaken place. He thought he heard the wooden floor creak. It sounded like a rusted wheelchair. He turned around but the light went out. He could feel someone’s eyes on him. The last thing he felt was cold metal on his face…
The old crippled man moved his wheelchair next to the journal. He tore the cover off the book and replaced it with a new one. It had 39 written on it…In blood.
4 comments:
dead journal? :)
very nice!
you know wonder why it is easier to write short tales which are spooky rather than otherwise. weird no.
ill post my entry someday soon.
@Manu - Death by journal I say!
@Cynic - I guess because it is easy to end the story abruptly :)
Dude, I was gonna send in my entry for this too, but my take on this was based on Facebook and how the Status is used as a journal. Of course, I didn't get around to finishing it and couldn't submit my entry.
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