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 Post subject: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: July 25th, 2013, 8:12 pm 
Lady of Strife
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So, if you've ever heard of deviantart, one of the groups I'm in on that website it hosting a small writing contest. The theme? Horror. A short story horror. I think this story is a little long, but I couldn't bare to take anything out.

That being said, even if this story is liked, I'm never writing horror again... I don't like the mindset I have to go into in order to write it.

And without further ado, here's the story:


The day I came home from the army was one of the happiest days of my life. I had been brought home two months early from what was supposed to be a nine-month deployment. I was ecstatic to see my five-year-old son and wife who was due the next month to give birth to my second child. When I got off that bus and had my family in my arms again was pure bliss from the hell I had come from. I had served my time in a black zone, meaning a very dangerous place to be sent, and had seen many of my brothers-in-arms fall to enemy hands. But the war was over now, and I was home. The worse was over, or so I thought. Little did I know that this day, which was the first day of joy I had experienced in months, would be the last such day I would ever experience.

When I got to the three-bedroom apartment I called home, and stood in the doorway, the first things I noticed were the walls. Before I left, I had remembered them being bright, cheery colors. My wife and I had painted them together not longer after the birth of my first son, Clayton. But they were different now, such dark depressing colors. They reminded me of the colors of ashes and rust. I commented to my wife about having painted the home a different color. She simply looked up at me and gave me a dainty smile before helping me bring my bags into our room.

Clayton showed me around the apartment, as if I had never been there before. Some rearranging had been done, though one of the rooms had been completely redone, turned into a nursery for the soon-to-be-born addition to the family. It was a charming little nursery; though I found it strange that one of its walls was mostly covered with a great mirror. I quickly left the room, getting a strange feeling that I didn’t like.

That night, after putting Clayton to bed, my wife and I spent the evening together in our room, enjoying each other’s company. I got to feel the kick of my child in her swollen stomach, and kiss her to my heart’s content. We fell asleep, her in my arms.

I woke up to the sound of static and a chill over my body. Opening my eyes, I was alone in the room, blankets removed, the television on but only static crossed the screen. Looking at a clock, it has been only an hour that I had been asleep. Getting up, I turned the TV off and pulled a blanket around me and went to go look for my wife. I quickly found her in the living room, watching television and munching on a bowl of cereal, wearing different cloths than she had been wearing before.

“Hey, why’d you come out here?” I asked her; she looked up at me with a confused smile.
“What do you mean? I’ve been out here since we put Clayton to bed. You went in there and fell asleep watching TV hours ago,” she told me.
“Oh,” I replied. “I must have been dreaming.”

That’s when I heard it. A faint crying coming from somewhere above, a weeping as if a woman in great peril. My instinct kicked in and I set off to find it before my wife could ask where I was going. I followed the noise up through the apartment building to the level above ours. There I traced it to the room directly above ours. The weeping was louder than ever. I knocked on the door, no answer. I tried calling out, still no answer. This apartment building was very old, incredibly old. I kneeled down and managed to look through the keyhole. I couldn’t see much, since it was dark, but in the corner I thought I saw the hunched form of the crying woman. I called out again, and this time the crying stopped. For the longest time I sat there, but no noise came after that.

After a long moment, I stood and left, going back to my apartment. My wife asked me what that was about, I just shook my head, not entirely certain myself. I went back to bed. I woke up again, this time my wife beside me, sleeping on her side, back to me. I leaned over and kissed her cheek, and looked at the clock. It was three in the morning. I wondered what had awoken me, till I heard it again. The woman crying from upstairs.

I decided to get to the bottom of it, so went upstairs, back to the door where the crying came from. I knocked again, and this time the crying stopped as I knocked. Again, silence came. I bent down and looked into the keyhole. Something red had been placed over it, so I couldn’t see it. I guessed some kind of electric tape. They wanted their privacy and not to be disturbed then, I guessed, so went back to lie down. The Television was on, playing just static again when I arrived, though my wife fast asleep where I left her. Turning off the TV, I lay down, hugged my wife, and went to sleep.

Morning came, and Clayton jumped on the bed, waking my wife and I up. I got up and went to make pancakes, though I dragged since I felt so tired. My wife came out and we ate breakfast together. My wife then headed out with my son to take him to a birthday party, asked if I wanted to come. I replied that I would stay here and relax.

I was alone in that apartment when I heard the crying for the third time that day. I tried to ignore it, figuring it was none of my business and I shouldn’t worry about it. But it only got louder and louder, till I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I went upstairs, and as I reached the top of the stairs, the crying had stopped. The door to the apartment above mine opened and out stepped a woman. A wide brimmed sun hat that went with her sundress hid her face. She walked passed me before I could do anything. I turned and followed her down. Until we were almost to ground level before I caught up to her.

“Wait!” I said, grabbing her arm. “I heard you crying are you oka-“ I was stopped in my tracks. As she turned to face me her hat tilted back and I got a good look at her face. I knew that face, a woman who I had fought with over seas. Who had just turned eighteen. But that wasn’t what stopped me. It was the fact that I had watched this woman die in front of me. We had been bombed by a chemical bomb, and she didn’t get her gas mask on in time. The chemical had caused her eyes to go completely red and swollen, and blood to drip from the eyes and ears. She had died in my arms. But here she was, standing in front of me. Exactly how she had been when I last saw her. Looking at me with eyes bloodshot red, streaks from bloody tears falling down her face.

I let go, a shiver running through me. The woman turned, and walked away, soon out of sight. I stood there for the longest time, until another tenant of the apartment came up the stairs.
“Hey man, are you okay?” the guy asked. I blinked a few times, and looked at him.
“Do you know about the woman who lives in room D31?” I asked him, the guy gave me a look.
“D31? No one’s lived there in years. Whatever you think, that room’s vacant. No one ever wants to rent it out for some reason,” he said, before moving on, glancing at me with weird looks.

I was shaken, my body trembling. I hurried back to my apartment, and found myself wandering into the nursery, trying to calm myself down.
Something in the mirror caught my eye, and I looked up and made eye contact with a child. Standing in the cradle was a babe, just able to stand, skin porcelain white with shining blue eyes. I looked at the actual cradle. It was empty, and back at the mirror. The baby was there, looking back at me, standing and holding onto the edge.

A crack appeared across his face, then another. Soon the porcelain reflection was shattering, and from the cracks came a smoky darkness that spilled into the cradle in the reflection, filled it to where it overflowed onto the floor. It went to the mirror and disappeared. I heard a child crying, and my eyes turned to the cradle in the room with me. Darkness billowed from somewhere inside, overflowing and starting to cover the floor. From the darkness, a black porcelain child stood up, crying. It crawled over the edge of its bed, and onto the floor, following the darkness towards me. I was frozen in place.

An ear-shattering scream filled the room, and the child shattered at my feet, the darkness scattering to the corners of the room and disappearing. The shards of a doll lay at my feet, but what was that scream? It sounded like it came from….
I ran out of the room to the door to see my wife there, holding her stomach. There was a pool of blood below her as she held her stomach, her pants soaked with the red liquid. She cried out again in pain, almost collapsing. I caught her from falling. She couldn’t speak, her voice taken away from her from the pain that was making her pale.

I carried her out to the car and took her to the hospital. I called the family where Clayton was at and asked if they could watch him. In the emergency room, they wouldn’t allow me to stay with her, the doctors blocking my way as they wheeled her into emergency surgery. Frustrated I went to the waiting room.

For several hours I paced, before sitting and staring at the floor before pacing again. The tock clicked loud in my mind, filling my mind as time passed so slow. People came and people left, the desk clerk changed with the shift, as did the nurses coming in and out, and yet there I was waiting.

It was nighttime when a doctor entered the room calling my name. I stood and went to him, asking about my wife. He didn’t say anything, just led me through the halls and finally into a dark room. Three other doctors were in there, checking tubes and machines and whispering softly. My wife lay on the bed, a tube stuck to her nose, an IV in her arm, and a sensor on her finger. She was asleep, pale, hair a mess with sweat. Her stomach was wrapped in bandages. Next to the bed was a glass crib where the child lay while a nurse cleaned them. I noticed the wastebasket next to her was full of bloody cotton balls and rags. I went to the cradle and looked down at my child, my daughter. She was beautiful. As the nurse cleaned her, I saw that her skin was pail, almost porcelain looking. Big beautiful blue eyes looked up at me, and sent a chill down my spine.

The birth had not been an easy one, having complications as well as being a month premature. For the next week I just about lived at the hospital with my wife and daughter, going home to shower and get a change of cloths and make sure Clayton was in order. He would spend the nights at a friend’s house, but would come to the hospital to visit wit his mother and meet his little sister.

Finally we were given the okay to go home, a happy day. But not as happy as the day I came home. My wife was still so weak and in pain. She could barely make it up the steps to our apartment, not to mention that I had to carry the baby as well. She couldn’t even make it to the nursery to put Claire into her room for the first time. She went to the bedroom to lie down as Clayton helped me show Claire her nursery.

That night was incredibly quiet, especially for having brought a new child home. Several times I woke up to the silence, feeling a chill. I would go into the nursery to check on Claire, but she would be fast asleep. I thought this strange, remembering having to get up and take care of Clayton several times during the night, especially during the first night home. Always I would go back to sleep, wariness causing me to quickly pass out.

The next day was rainy. Clayton went to a friend’s apartment across the hall. My wife, Susan, wasn’t feeling well still. She stayed in bed, watching Television. I would bring Claire into the bedroom so she could feed and spend time with the precious child. Claire barely cried. Eventually it was time to put Claire down for a nap, and Susan decided to take one as well.

With Clayton gone, and both girls asleep, I laid down on the couch, thinking maybe I could sleep as well. The ticking of the clock on my wall filled the otherwise silent air.
Tick-Tock Tick-Tock Tick-Tock Tick-
Complete silence filled the room. I opened my eyes, thinking maybe the clock ran out of batteries. I looked up, not a minute had passed since I closed my eyes. Strange, it had to have been at least ten minutes. Then I realized it had gotten so much darker in the apartment, and almost smoky. I didn’t move, remaining on high alert.
Thump, thump, thump, shink, thump, thump, thump, creeaaaak.
I sat up at those sounds. Footsteps, a blade, and a door. Those sounds were unmistakable. Then I noticed the door to Claire’s room was open. Getting up, I went inside, expecting to see someone. There was no one inside except Claire sleeping away in her crib.

Movements on the corner of my eye made me look up at the mirror. At my own reflection standing above the cradle, one of the big kitchen knives in my hand. I looked down, but my hands were empty, no knife to be seen, before looking back at my reflection. My mirror self lifted a finger to his lips, making the motion to be silent, and raised the knife to point at Claire.

“No!” I breathed, and reached out above the actual cradle to stop it from happening as my reflection brought the knife down. I closed my eyes and winced as sharp pain sliced my hand as it wrapped around something cold. Opening my eyes, I was holding the knife in my hand, but by the blade.

I looked up at my reflection, only to see it looking normal back at me, but something else was amiss this time. The infant in the cradle was not the pale porcelain like Claire, but a black babe who was standing and staring at me. I looked down in surprise, but there was Claire, fast asleep as if nothing was wrong. But up at the mirror, and there was the demon child staring back at me. In a moment he grabbed the knife from my hand, reached out, and sliced my stomach in a series of cuts before I could react.

I backed away, gasping, the bloody knife dropping to the ground and blood covered the front of my shirt. I ripped open my shirt only to see the slices. Looking up…. And the child was gone from the mirror. Leaving only the simple mirror of what was in the room. Of Claire in her crib, and I standing there with a bloody stomach. I swallowed hard, grabbed the knife and fled the room. In the bathroom I cleaned myself up. I wiped away blood, put pressure on it, disinfectant. After the blood stopped flowing and it was clean, I realized the marks weren’t just random… and looked up at the mirror.

I FOUND YOU

It was there, written in broken skin. Wide eyed, I realized I couldn’t let my wife see this. I found a first aide kit and bandaged it before getting a new shirt, throwing my old one away. With shaking hands I cleaned the knife and put it away, taking cleaner and making sure all traces of blood were gone.

Claire cried, and I went in there to see her awake. I carefully picked her up and rocked her, humming to her to get her to calm down. I heard my wife call from the other room and took Claire to Susan. The baby was fed and calmed down. Now she lay in my wife’s arms, and they smiled at each other.

Seeing that, I told myself everything would be fine.

That evening my son came home, and told me all about his day as I cooked dinner for all of us. Shannon managed to get out of bed, and we ate and watched television together. Soon it was time to put Clayton and Claire to bed. Though the baby was restless and it was well into the night before we got her to settle down.

In the bedroom, ready for bed, I was expecting Susan to lie down and just go to sleep. She had still been weak from giving birth, so I lay down as she was in the bathroom. The clock in the room ticked away, and marked the coming of midnight.

Finally Susan entered the room, and to my surprise she wore lingerie instead of her nightgown. The scar on her stomach was still red, but healing, and she had such a look on her face, I couldn’t help but go over to her.
“You look beautiful,” I told her. She smiled and kissed me, pushing me towards the bed. I pulled my lips away. “You’re weak, are you sure?” I asked her. She nodded, and kissed me again, harder this time. She pushed me onto the bed. I ran my hand across her back and felt something wet, and stopped. Pulling my hand away so I could see it over her shoulder as she kissed my neck, I saw that my palm was covered in blood. I was vaguely aware of the sound of static from the Television.

“Wait!” I said, but she kept going, getting more fired. I grabbed her shoulder to push her off, but her skin only slipped away in my hand. I had pushed her skin off her shoulder and it fell onto the bed. I cried out and tried to get her off, but somehow she was overpowering me even as more of her skin fell off from my touch, blood dripping and splattering all over me and the bed. Finally I pulled her hair and yanked her back. She gave a cry and came off of me. I jumped to my feet next to the bed. Half of her skin was on the bed, the other half on her. The places where it had pulled off revealed a mixture of dark skin and burns underneath. Her hair was falling out and her face dropping.

A deep laughter filled the air as she reached up and pulled her face off. The face of a long dead enemy stood before me, half in the skin of my wife. A man I had pulled from a vehicle I had bombed during the war, and shot three times in the chest. But how could he be here? He laughed again.
“Where’s my wife?!” I yelled, lounging at him. But I was too slow and he escaped my grasp, running for the bedroom door as he pulled more of my wife’s skin off of himself.

I ran after him, only to trip on something just outside the bedroom door. A bloody and rusty axe. I grabbed the axe as my son opened the door to his room.
“Daddy? I heard yelling, what’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Go back in your room, and lock your door,” I told him quickly. “Mommy’s in trouble, but I need you to do what I say! Go!”
Clayton went wide eyed and went to let out a scream when a dark figure came from behind him, from his room, and placed a hand around his mouth. I yelled at the man, the enemy from the war. But he was quick for holding a struggling child.
And there was the false Susan, too. Together the two went into the nursery, closing the door behind them.

I ran to the door, tried to open, but they had locked it. I heard Claire crying behind the door. I took the rusty axe and smashed the door open. Inside I stopped. The walls were a rust color, and the room was foggy. The floor had turned to grate, and the ceiling covered in black mold. The cradle was tipped over, with no sign of the enemy and my son or my wife. But there, on the ground by the cradle, was Claire. She looked up at me with the blue eyes and porcelain pale like face. But I noticed something off. Her face was cracked. The crack started spreading, and bits and pieces broke off. I watched as my Claire slowly crumbled and was replaced by the horrible baby of darkness with blazing red eyes. It let out a laugh and stood up, coming towards me.

Instinctively I swung my axe, cutting clean through it, and it fell to a pile of ashes at my feet. Then I looked up at the mirror. My enemies stood there watching with delight. One held my son, the other my wife, and were leaving through the door in the room through the mirror. I ran after, only to hit the mirror. With a frustrated yell I lifted my axe and with one great swing shattered the mirror. It was like glass falling away to another room. Inside was a long hallway, with walls oozing and pulsing as if inside a heart.

I had to save my wife and Clayton, since there was no hope for Claire. I ran down the hallway, and quickly heard sounds behind me. Looking back I saw the pathway closing up behind me, and quickly catching up. I would be crushed. I ran faster, and came to the end of the hallway, slamming myself through a glass door to find myself in an iron room. But I wasn’t alone.

The room was filled with sick torture devices, half I recognized from movies, half from the enemy prisoner of war camps I had liberated with my battalion. Swallowing hard, going through the maze of twisted machines. Iron maidens, stretching machines, and more horrible devices, covered with blood. I could hear the cries of those that they had been used on as I passed them.

Rounding a corner, I saw my enemy with my son. He held a needle to the boy’s neck, and slowly injected a clear liquid into him, and pushed the boy forward. I threw my axe. It hit the enemy right in the head. My son came towards me, crying. I knelt down to him, putting my hands on his shoulders.
“Clayton, it’s alright, I’m here now.”
“Stop…. Stop it, Daddy! It hurts!” he cried, his eyes closed tight and swollen, and swelling. He continued to cry as his whole face started swelling. My eyes went wide. What had they put in my son? What could I do to stop it? It wasn’t just the skin that was swelling, but something inside. His skin started cutting open from the inside, as I heard the cracks of bone breaking itself apart. Clayton couldn’t move his mouth as it was happening now, though he continued to cry in pain.

I felt tears blinding me as I put my arms around him, his body starting to twitch violently as his skull was breaking itself apart all around from the inside. I held him tight, even as he suddenly grew still and limp in my arms. I gave a cry, and then a fury fill my heart. I gently laid him down, not looking at his face, knowing it would be unrecognizable.

I ran, grabbing my axe and found another locked door. I broke it open, and inside saw my wife tied upside down. Her stomach had been cut open again, and tears of blood streamed down her forehead from…. The sockets were her eyes were. I gave a cry and swung my axe. Two of the enemy had been in there, sharpening yet more knives. Their bodies fell at my feet, their heads rolling across the room. I dropped my axe and pulled Susan off the contraption that held her up. I held her in my arms as she choked and gasped, and finally laid still.

I cried out in horror and pain, clutching her for dear life. Cradling her, rocking back and forth. I heard footsteps around me. With tear filled eyes I looked up, and found myself surrounded by the faces of every one of my fallen brothers in arms. Even the woman with the blood red eyes was there. They looked down at me, and came upon me. They pulled me away from Susan, tying barbed wire around me. I cried out, I fought, but was overcome and knocked out.

I woke up later. I don’t know how long had passed. Had it all been a dream? I opened my eyes, and tried to move my arms. No. I looked down and I was fully wrapped in the rusted barbed wire. I looked around and saw the room I was in. Square around with no door, no window, and just cold rust colored concrete walls. I got up and started yelling, if anyone could here me. No answer. I fell down into a corner, and started crying.


August 15, 1999
Official document of ______ Psychiatric Institute of the Mentally Unstable
Case #4379
Official report of Patient SC13
Proper name Corporal Donovan _________
Dr. ______ ________

Patient SC13 was pre-infliction a Corporal in the army. He received many awards for his great deeds in the recently ended war. Though having spoken to his higher officer, I was told that his time in enemy territory was not easy, physically or mentally.
Reports say that Patient SC13, upon returning home from war, started showing ill signs right off. Going to the door of a vacant room, knocking and calling out to someone that he said was crying, looking into the keyhole. A mere few days after his arrival home, his wife gave birth a month early to their daughter, Claire. The next week was spent in the hospital. Nurses report Patient SC13 constantly mumbling to himself how he liked it there better than home. How the rust and ash colored walls depressed him. Upon inspection, it was noted that the walls of his apartment were never this color, but instead were bright and cheery shades of green and blue.
In the time between Susan _______ and the incident, Patient SC13 inflicted himself upon the abdomen area. We believed he used the kitchen carving knife, which forensics found covered in his blood. He wrote upon his stomach three words.
“I found you” in all capital letters.
The incident itself is only speculation from what the investigators found compared to witness reports. All neighbors in the apartment building heard screaming and banging.
It is believed that Patient CS13 got hold of an axe, having been kept under his bed, having been his father’s. During the night he molested his still ill wife, causing the wounds from the C-section of the birth to open again. He then used the axe to cut open the closed bedroom door. He dragged his wife to the nursery and flipped the cradle over before cutting the baby in half. He then used the axe to break through the wall between the nursery and the neighboring apartment. There he cut down the three tenants of the apartment. Three boys who attended a nearby college. One was napping, and two playing video games when Patient CS13 entered and killed them with his axe. He then dragged his wife and son into the neighbor’s apartment. Bruises on the boy’s neck show that he had strangled the boy to death.
Patient CS13 was found cradling the body of his wife when authorities came and took him under custody.
Though the story he gives is much different, he constantly thinks I am an enemy that he fought in the war. Patient shows no signs of change.
Cause of decline of mental state determined as severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
Patient to be kept in isolation for safety of staff and other patients and kept under constant observation.

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: July 29th, 2013, 12:46 am 
Ringwraith
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Ooh I'll be reading this soon. XD


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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: July 29th, 2013, 11:37 pm 
Lady of Strife
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Well, let me know when you have read it!

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 13th, 2013, 11:03 pm 
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That was amazing for such a short story!!! I absolutly loved it. It gave story, horror and a suspense that lasted to the end. Though I would like to point out that when reffering to the wife you switched between the names Susan and Shannan a few times. If this had been a real book I would've bought and loved it. :D I hope to have my stories published someday so I also love reading other people's stories. Thank you for sharing this. :)

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 28th, 2013, 9:10 pm 
Ringwraith
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(sorry it took so long to get back to you... I haven't been on the site much since I first posted.)

It's really good, and like Thali said, very suspenseful. It sent shivers up my spine quite a few times. You're such a talented writer... here's to hoping for more stuff from you in the future.


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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 29th, 2013, 1:41 am 
Lady of Strife
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Oh! I didn't notice I kept changing her name! Thanks for pointing that out Thali!

Glad y'all like it!

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 29th, 2013, 7:23 am 
Dwarf
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Your welcome, I didn't want to sound rude just wanted to let you know. Great great book. :D Are you on or have you heard of wattpad.com by any chance? :D

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 29th, 2013, 6:39 pm 
Lady of Strife
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Oh, no, you weren't rude at all! In fact I'm glad you pointed that out for me! I can go in and fix it. That's constructive criticism you gave, which is welcome!

And I have heard of wattpad. I believe I have an account, but I don't remember the username and password. I believe I had wanted to use it for my fantasy story, Dragonscar, which is only half way done through first draft. My goal is to have my fantasy published next year. My first 6 chapters are here on AU.

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 29th, 2013, 6:58 pm 
Dwarf
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Oh cool! I'll have to find it. I just joined and I love it. I love to write and I've had books or ideas for books I've written just sitting around with nothing to do with them. Then my friend told me about there and it's awesome. I'm in the middle of a few books, adding to them. :D

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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: November 30th, 2013, 6:22 pm 
Lady of Strife
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I had gotten a Wattpad because they're doing a special offer for National Novel Writing Month winners. There'll be a drawing for those on Wattpad and participated in NaNoWriMo. (If you don't know what NaNoWriMo is go here: http://nanowrimo.org/about though it just finished up)

I used my story Dragonscar for it, adding the necessary 50k words to the 30k I already had before November. Of course, this ended up putting my story to about... half way through the plot. Which is still cool, but I'm hoping to finish it soon.

And since you mentioned Wattpad, I went in and put my stories(well... this one and Dragonscar) on there and stuff... if you'd like to take a look, here's me: http://wattpad.com/ElfyTheRinger

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Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08


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 Post subject: Re: A One-Shot Horror Story(PG-13)
PostPosted: December 1st, 2013, 1:10 am 
Dwarf
Dwarf
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Joined: 13 November 2013
Posts: 51
Location: Middle Earth of course!
Country: United States (us)
Gender: Female

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Ok I'll most def look! :D My username so you know is ParamoreTotallyRules

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