Tag Archives: creature

Just One More Halloween Tale…

As I write these words, I’m sipping a steaming cup of cocoa by a roaring fire while pondering the many questions that you, dear reader, may have concerning the origins of my tale—The Beast of Macon Hollow. It’s a crisp November evening—not long after Halloween, in fact—and the moon is sitting serenely on its throne high above the earth. It was on a night like this that the Beast first slunk from its boggy lair to prey upon the fears of—not Macon Hollow—but another small town. My hometown of Bladenboro.

You’ve never heard of the Beast of Bladenboro? Oh, it’s a true story. You have my word. In fact, I remember it well. Allow me to tell you just one more Halloween tale…

It happened in 1953. Our pets and livestock were being killed. It would happen at night while we were sleeping safely in our beds.  Something would attack! …and we, the puzzled townspeople, would find the mutilated bodies strewn across our property like discarded rag dolls. A dog… a goat… a small calf. As the casualties mounted, so did our fear and paranoia.

No one had any explanation except to blame the mysterious creature that some claim to have seen. A large cat. Black with glowing red eyes. No doubt a vampire beast considering the lack of blood in its victims. The reactions of all of us were not unlike those of Macon Hollow’s citizens. Some of us were scared. Some of us were desperate. And some of us were ready to hunt down and rid ourselves of the pestilence.

But that is where the similarities of the real Beast and those you will find in the pages of my novel end. The creature that terrorized Macon Hollow was much more…unforgiving. And its ambitions were much…grander than merely its next meal. After all, my book is a work of fiction. And our Beast was quite real.

It pains me to say that we never did catch our Beast.  Whatever it may have been. It disappeared back into the swamp with little fervor. But it still remains within the collective memories of those who lived through its brief reign of terror. And it wouldn’t surprise me if we didn’t get another visit from it one day.

Now, if you’ll— Wait! What’s that? Sounds like scratching on my window. Yes, it’s unmistakable. The ear-rending screech of sharp claws on glass.

Dear reader, pardon the interruption. But it seems that I must tend to this matter at once. Please excuse me while I — Oh, my…that sounds like shattering glass.  Muddy tracks leading into the— No! It can’t be…no…NO! 

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Stories to Scare the Young by Claire Collins

Claire Collins is the author of Fate and Destiny and Images of Betrayal.

His ears strained to pick up any strange noises in the surrounding forest. An owl called out asking who he was, but he didn’t respond. Each step brought him closer to the sounds he heard a few moments ago.

His father saw one when he was young, and enjoyed reliving the story as the young ones grew older. He believed his father, but he also wanted to learn about the legend himself. Part of him believed it was just a tale to scare the young, but part of him thought the lore might be true.

He crept forward, cautious not to disturb anything in the woods by his movement. If they were out there, he didn’t want to alert them to his presence. Dad said if they see him, they would eat him. He thought that if he saw them, the fright would scare him so bad that if they wanted to eat him, he wouldn’t be able to put up a fight anyway.

A flickering campfire, circled in by rocks glittered through the trees ahead of him. The air smelled strange, a bitter and musky scent wafted through the air from the fire. He crouched behind a tree, waiting. Watching.

A shriek of laughter split the air and he wanted to turn and flee, but his feet wouldn’t move. Two creatures ran up the hill towards the fire, their grotesque features displayed by the flickers of the flames.

Afraid, he spread his wings and took flight, anxious to get away as fast as possible. His father wasn’t just telling stories. He could barely breathe as his heart threatened to break free as he made his escape, flying into the air over the heads of the creatures,

It was true. Humans were real.

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Stories to Scare the Young

Claire Collins is the author of Fate and Destiny and Images of Betrayal.

 

His ears strained to pick up any strange noises in the surrounding forest. An owl called out asking who he was, but he didn’t respond. Each step brought him closer to the sounds he heard a few moments ago.

His father saw one when he was young, and enjoyed reliving the story as the young ones grew older. He believed his father, but he also wanted to learn about the legend himself. Part of him believed it was just a tale to scare the young, but part of him thought the lore might be true.

He crept forward, cautious not to disturb anything in the woods by his movement. If they were out there, he didn’t want to alert them to his presence. Dad said if they see him, they would eat him. He thought that if he saw them, the fright would scare him so bad that if they wanted to eat him, he wouldn’t be able to put up a fight anyway.

A flickering campfire, circled in by rocks glittered through the trees ahead of him. The air smelled strange, a bitter and musky scent wafted through the air from the fire. He crouched behind a tree, waiting. Watching.

A shriek of laughter split the air and he wanted to turn and flee, but his feet wouldn’t move. Two creatures ran up the hill towards the fire, their grotesque features displayed by the flickers of the flames.

Afraid, he spread his wings and took flight, anxious to get away as fast as possible. His father wasn’t just telling stories. He could barely breathe as his heart threatened to break free as he made his escape, flying into the air over the heads of the creatures,

It was true. Humans were real.

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Inspiration from The Creature

1947 started with a nightmare. A creature grabbed hold of me, keeping hold of me by force, “I have something I must give you.”

The creature engulfed me. I could not breath, though I fought to scream. I could not move, though I tried my hardest. It had me in its clutches and refused to let go.

I woke with a jolt, taking a deep breath but I did not scream. I’m just not a screamer because this nightmare should have done just that. My fight or flight response was off the chart, yet I lay there trying to forget the creature.

The clock read just after three, I’d hardly been asleep for an hour. I put my head back on the pillow but could not close my eyes. Each time I did, I was suffocating again. Thirty minutes was enough and I was out of bed, sitting at my computer trying to ignore the creepy crawls that were still with me as well.

I am plagued by nightmares. For as long as I can remember I’ve always had them, which is funny in itself because it takes a lot to scare me. I will admit that my creature visit did it. It’s been almost a month and I still shudder at the thought of it.

The questions I asked myself from the moment it spoke was, “What did it give me, or try to?”

The next morning I received my answer.

I’d gone to bed early, since thanks to my nighttime visitor, I was a little on the tired side. I’d fallen asleep easy, also very rare for me. And I’d dreamt, which I always do. This was different somehow. Very clear, each word, each scene, each person.

“She stole the money.” People kept whispering.

“You have to go home,” said the honey-haired man in the army uniform.

The woman with auburn hair sat on the dock fishing. I saw the coast and saw her travel. I saw the story and the people in it. I saw 1947.

So, I woke that morning and sat at the computer, this time not sending a 4 am email about the creature to my poor sister, but to write out Maddy’s story. Maddy was the woman sitting on the dock and I could see her, and the creature wanted me to tell everyone about her.

I do hope that if the creature wants to give me more stories, that it does so in a better way, but as long as they are stories like Maddy’s I will take them however it wants to give them.

 

Suzette Vaughn- Author of Badeaux Knights and Mortals, Gods, and a Muse

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