1.0 Compilation of Creative Materials 1.0 Prose Fiction 1.0.1 Short Story “Tiny Little Wounds” by Charlie St. George Compulsion can be a strange and disquieting thing. For a long while, I’d wanted to write a story about skin-picking and the sense of immense relief that can come from peeling back something which doesn’t belong—or at least feels like it doesn’t belong. I had the first few opening lines and not much else until my brain inevitably turned to ghosts and trauma (as it does), and then this story quickly started to take shape. —CSG The goal isn’t to bleed. It’s okay if you bleed, but that’s never the objective. That’s not the point at all. • • • • Once, a ghost got inside me. I didn’t realize at first. That’s how ghosts work: they creep in quiet, they creep in slow, they fill you up, all sticky ooze. Ghosts are a sentient infection. Hauntings are shivered whispers and yellow-white pus. They called an exorcist, who helped. She said the cleansing words, offered comfort. Drained the abscess, provided brief lucidity— —but exorcists don’t exorcise, not completely. Not on their own. • • • • Lately, it’s been my arms. I can’t stop scouring them, can’t stop searching. My forearms, specifically: pale white flesh and twisted blue veins, like two long strips of undercooked chicken. The skin is so thin there, breaks so easily. Every tiny scratch, every little cut . . . it’s all in my line of sight. My wounds cannot escape me.
I should worry more about what I can’t see. I am worried—I check in the mirror three times a day—my scalp, my lower back. Always, always, my right shoulder blade. Still, my arms, my arms . . . and those dark scabs dotting my arms, those dark scabs impatiently waiting . . . it’s not that they itch, exactly. They just don’t belong there. • • • • I remember the exorcism, but only in pieces. Belly-laughing so hard I threw up all over myself. Speaking names I didn’t recognize, singing songs I’d never heard. I remember what the exorcist said. That thing, it’s still hiding inside, acting like you’re healing, like it’s over. You got to dig it out, girl. Only you can save yourself. I remember sitting up, twisting. Remember reaching back, back, back— • • • • “Please, honey. Sweetheart, it’s gone, that ghost has been gone a long time now, you’re safe, you’re safe, why are you hurting yourself—” But she doesn’t understand, no one understands. Pain isn’t the point, either, and safe? No. Safe isn’t a thing you can really be. • • • • It began after the exorcism. Seeking them out. Keeping track. Noticing not just my own sores but everyone’s tiny little wounds: blood blisters on fingers, blackheads on cheeks, so many cracked, crusted lips, just begging to be peeled. Of course, I’d never do that; I’d never touch anyone without their consent. Besides, it wouldn’t help. We’ve all got to dig for ourselves.
But I dream about it, sometimes. Eating breakfast at a diner, or taking a seat on the crosstown bus, or going to church for Sunday service and asking the waitress, the passenger, the priest—can I shuck your skin? You’ll feel so much better once I do. • • • • Because it’s not about the ghosts, exactly, not about the paranoia, the everysingle-f*****g-second of dread that something rotten and rotting has slipped inside. It’s not about healing myself or hurting myself or punishing myself for getting possessed in the first place. It’s not even that I expect to find something; what I’m really looking for, after all, is a lie. But this . . . this chase is all I have, it’s how I keep going, how I survive, that perfect moment, I need it, I need— • • • • I felt it, back then, behind my right shoulder: a dark, thick red scab the size of my whole palm. And before I really dug in, before the excavation, before I tore deep down into my flesh—before I leaked blood and pus and whispering dead things all over—I scratched at the surface, I excoriated, I scraped off that clinging skin, that hardened crust, and I remember, I remember— This breath of relief, a split second of euphoria, that one bewitching moment of victory, of absolute certainty that I would be myself again, whole again. That I’d feel safe again so soon. (St. George. C in Flash Fiction Archives – Nightmare Magazine, October 2022) 1.0.2 Flash Fiction “Warrior of god” by KMApok “If God exists, why is there so much evil in the world?” It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. All things must have balance. Light and dark. Good and evil. Sound and silence. Without one, the other cannot exist. ”So if that’s true, then God does NOTHING to fight evil?” That might be your follow up question.
Of course he fights evil. Relentlessly. I am Dartalian, one of His most Holy and Righteous angels. I roam the Earth, disposing of evil wherever I find it. I kill the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. I crush them completely so you can sleep at night. You humans have no idea how many of you live because of the work I do. ”But what about Stalin? Hitler? Ted Bundy? Jack the Ripper?” Well, those are the minor ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I destroy are ….too horrible and vile to survive. What’s funny, is while I would wager you never have heard the name Dartalian in any relegious texts, I bet you have heard of me. Americans, for example, have their own name for me. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. (KMApok in 30 Best Short Scary Stories Of All Time – ScoopWhoop, 18 Spetember 2015) 1.0.3 Vignette “The Cabin” by Zoea Marland Night had already taken over and all he had was a flashlight and no clue on how to get back. He knew it was already too late and too dangerous to keep going through the perilous forest. He began to worry that he would have no shelter for the night when almost luckily enough, he stumbled across a brokendown cabin. It was dark, and seemed like no one had visited it in years, but he knew it was the only place where he could rest until daylight, especially since his flashlight was running out of battery. He knocked on the door a few times but no one answered, so he let himself in where strangely enough, a perfect bed fitted for one person awaited him in the center. He knew that if the owner came back he could explain himself, he was sure that the owner wouldn’t mind, or was even probably dead. So he went ahead and got himself comfortable in bed. As he tried to sleep, he couldn’t ignore the collection of paintings around the room; portraits of strange looking people all peering at him, each wearing a smile that sent chills up his spine. Not too long after his exhaustion from the hike got the best of him and he was able to ignore the faces. The next morning he got up early and was shocked to see that there were no paintings around the room, but windows… (Marland. Z in My Favourite Short Scary Stories, 2019) 1.1 Prose Non-Fiction
1.1.1 Travel Writing “An Evil Presence In A Hotel” by Erin Love scary hotel stories? Many years ago, I stayed at the Stoneleigh Hotel while attending a convention in Dallas. It has a penthouse suite that has hosted Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and many other famous guests. At the time I stayed there, the penthouse stood empty because it was undergoing renovations. Late one night, I befriended a security guard who invited me — along with one of my coworkers — to tour the penthouse. We immediately took him up on the offer! He explained that one of the rooms contained a hidden door that led to an elevator. Apparently one of the previous owners had installed it so he could easily access a room on a different floor where his mistresses stayed. The guard informed us that one of the ladies had fallen to her death in that elevator shaft. He said employees could sometimes still hear the creaking sounds of the elevator, even though it was no longer in use. My friend and I separated as we meandered through all of the rooms on the penthouse level. Even under its state of construction, the beauty of the space was clearly evident! We both had cameras with us and took lots of photos. At one point I wandered down a narrow hallway that appeared to be a servant’s prep area of some sort, which led to the kitchen. The lights weren’t functioning at the time, and it was after midnight, so it was difficult to make out all of the details.
Once I was a few steps into the space, I immediately felt cold and my instincts told me to turn around…so I did. I continued exploring the rest of the space and eventually met up with my friend on one of the balconies. We chatted with the security guard for a few moments, thanked him, and then left. It wasn’t until the next day when we were driving home from the convention that we started discussing the details of the penthouse. I asked if she’d noticed the dark hallway that led to the kitchen, and she said yes. I told her I’d started to walk down the hallway but stopped myself because it felt cold and creepy…even evil. She was nodding her head in agreement and started excitedly telling me how she’d started walking into the same space and had been overcome with a feeling of pure evil. She described it as a very tangible, physical sensation, and said she immediately turned around and left the space. We were both fascinated that we’d felt almost the exact same feelings, in the exact same area, yet neither of us mentioned it to the other until almost a full day later. It’s still one of the craziest experiences I’ve had in a hotel! Interestingly, I found out that the hotel is known to be haunted when I did some digging on Google. Apparently, I’m not the only one who has had a creepy experience here. (Erin in 21 Travel Horror Stories You'll Be Glad You're Not Telling, 2023) 1.1.2 Advertisement
*Real online advertisement in search of willing victim to be eaten by convicted cannibal and murderer, Armin Meiwes, in the case of The Rotenburg Cannibal. (Reddit, 2021) 1.1.3 Blog “Next To My Bed | A Sleep Paralysis Story” by The Darkest Blog This sleep paralysis story is one scary account of a friend who had experienced paralysis and lucid dreaming for the first time in his life. The so-called sleep demon had him running for his life but paralysis for what it is, completely stops you from moving. Read this eerie account to find out his bizarre experience. A Sleep Paralysis Story My night shifts started erratically. I did not see it coming but it was a welcome change. Primarily because we are compensated in the form of extra bucks to work through the night in IT, while the whole world is sleeping. How very satisfying, I thought. My hour anyway! I did not have to bump into people. They make life tough, living hard anyway. I congratulated myself secretly and got to it.
Unfortunately, it was short lived. A certain someone on my team was going through a financial crunch. He asked for it and I reluctantly dethroned. What I did not pay attention to was the spike in my graph of sleeping habits. It got terribly disturbed. I was having trouble sleeping the first few days. One night I dozed off early with a heavy head. The Company I was deep in a slumber when my eyes flicked open. I sensed someone standing right next to my bed towards my left. Stock-still I sensed my body failing me. Too terrified to turn around and look at it, I sensed it furious. He was breathing heavily. My first instinct was to run towards the light switch to see what it was. That’s what I did. I sprang up and ran towards the switch which was next to my room’s door, then managed to press the button but the light did not switch on. I turned around to look and I was taken aback. There I saw my very own body lying there on the bed but I hadn’t moved a bit. Within moments I was once again in my body, once again feeling the heavy breathing that was coming from my left. I was dead scared. In the background, my clock ticked. The noise grew louder and louder. I slept there helpless knowing that turning my head could be fatal. Yet I tried with all my might to slowly move my head. Helplessness But I could not move my head let alone turn it. The room began to grow darker. I wasn’t dreaming, I was so damn sure of it. Also, I wasn’t asleep. I was stuck in between, smacked somewhere between two different worlds. Paralyzed without me having any control over my body. I laid there for a while trying to figure out if I was dead. All those terrifying movie scenes began to visit. Must be the afterlife, and maybe I might have ended up in hell.
Some more moments passed when I sprang back to life again. The first thing I did was switch on the lights of course. I turned around to look. There was nothing but my ebony cupboard next to my bed. But he was right there! I couldn’t go back to bed then. The incident had me trembling like a leaf. (The Darkest Blog, 18 June 2018) 1.2 Poetry 1.2.1 Rhymes (Emma, M. in 25 Adorably Disturbing Apocalyptic Nursery Rhymes, n.d) 1.2.2 Haiku “Boogeyman” by
Distance from light switch To top of dark basement stairs - Measured in neck hairs (Hanson, L. 2015) 1.2.3 Modern Poem Night Shift by Leinahtan C. The night shift in the hospital morgue The clock on the wall strikes midnight And also strikes a chill Not much to do Just walk back and forth down the halls Occasionally tapping lightly A drum beat on the walls Awaking something sinister And one by one the lights down the hall Go out with a spark And within seconds The whole floor is dark The temperature drops as you run blindly Hoping to find your office To get your flashlight and try to find me But it's to late Because as you reach the door I grab you and drag you down with me forevermore. (Leinahtan C. in Horror Poems - Modern Award-winning Horror Poetry, 31 January 2023)
2.0 Reader Response Towards Chosen Creative Material The creative material in which I have chosen for this reader’s response is the Flash Fiction Warrior Of God by KMApok. Warrior Of God talks about a character, Dartalian whom is known as a persona which is described as saving mankind through the killing of unseen enemies for the sake of mankind. The fiction continues to adress the question: If this persona really does save mankind from evil monsters roaming the earth, then what about notable figures such as Stalin, Hitler, Ted Bundy and Jack the Ripper whom still walked the earth to wrack havoc among the living? The persona later explains how they are the few he had to let live, the less dangerous ones “for balance”, compared to the ones he destroyed, so horrible it would be beyond human comprehension. The fiction ends with a dark twist after revealing who Dartalian is and how this relates with how he kills these monsters: Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). This full circle effect brings readers to realize how this statement makes sense as without the chance for a monster to even live, then they could not even be given the chance to destroy in the first place. This also brings up the irony on how tragic SIDS is known for but when viewed the possibilities such as these if SIDS never even occured, imagine a world with even bigger monsters terrorizing people because they were given the chance to live. Firstly, one of the things in which can be analyzed in the flash fiction is the use of hyperbole. Within the text, the use of a hyperbole can seen when Dartalian is describing God’s role in the balance of the world. For instance, the statement “”So if that’s true, then God does NOTHING to fight evil?” That might be your follow up question. Of course he fights evil. Relentlessly.” In this description, Dartalian is describing God’s part in fighting the bad of the universe but is doubted by mankind. This is being stressed through the word “relentlessly” to describe God’s constant battle with evil through Dartalian. Next, another aspect in which can be analyzed is the use of imagery within the flash fiction. In the flash fiction, there are various instances in which the main character Dartalian describes his ruthlessness in battling with evil vividly for the sake of mankind. For example, Dartalian notes how “I roam the Earth, disposing of evil wherever I find it. I kill the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. I crush them completely so you can sleep at night.” This statement evokes certain emotions through the character’s actions. To “kill” and to “crush” these monsters paints a grousome picture for the reader but at the same time highlights Dartalian’s bravery. Lastly, another aspect which also speaks volume to the fiction is details contained within the story’s mood. For this story, the mood set surrounding the plot is grim. The grim and eerie description of Dartalian’s ruthlessness in battling evil impacts the reader to see how serious his role is within the universe. For example, the statement ”But what about Stalin? Hitler? Ted Bundy? Jack the Ripper?” Well, those are the minor ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I destroy are ….too horrible and vile to survive.” Paints a picture as to how menacing Dartalian is as a character. The “minor” villains of
the world he mentions are already some of history’s worst humans to live whilst the ones he did destroy are described as “too horrible and vile” only painting a picture of unimaginable evil to the human mind. With that said, it is safe to say that there are elements of hyperbole, imagery and mood that can be found in the flash fiction “Warrior Of God”. Each of these element plays a brutal role in the short story itself which highlights parts that a reader can appreciate. As such, it is important to note some of these features when creating a composition or creative writing in order to gain the reader’s interest and engagement in what we wish to convey. 683 words.
References Emma, M. n.d. 31 Creepy nursery rhymes ideas – Pinterest. pinterest.com. https://www.pinterest.com/thatbellasky/creepy-nursery-rhymes/ Erin. 2023. 21 Travel Horror Stories You'll Be Glad You're Not Telling. jessieonjourney.com. https://jessieonajourney.com/travel-horror-stories/ Hanson, L. 2015. Scary Haiku Poems. scarypoemsandpoets.com. https://www.haikupoemsandpoets.com/poems/scary_haiku_poems KMApok. 18 Spetember 2015. 30 Best Short Scary Stories Of All Time - ScoopWhoop. scoopwhoop.com. https://www.scoopwhoop.com/world/short-scary-stories-reddit/ Leinhatan C. 31 January 2023. Horror Poems - Modern Award-winning Horror Poetry. allpoetry.com. https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/horror Marland, Z. 2019. My Favourite Short Scary Stories. dyatmika.org. https://dyatmika.org/students/my-favourite-short-scary-stories/ Reddit. 2021. An online conversation in "The Cannibal Cafe" between Armin Meiwes (Rotenburg Cannibal) and his voluntary victim before they met. reddit.com. https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.reddit.com%2Fr%2FMorbidReali ty%2Fcomments%2Fnoot0k%2Fan_online_conversation_in_the_cannibal_cafe%2F&psig=AOv Vaw1g6qLS2OtS2F_WNcVw3ueF&ust=1675433513697000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0C BEQjhxqFwoTCLiI7a2C9_wCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAI St. George. C. October 2022. Flash Fiction Archives – Nightmare Magazine. nightmaremagazine.com. https://www.nightmare-magazine.com/category/fiction/flash-fiction/ The Darkest Blog. 18 June 2018. The Darkest Blog. thedarkestblog.com. https://thedarkestblog.com/