Welcome to another round of the scary writing prompt game. Again, here's how it works: I'll announce the prompt, then you guys post a 1-2 paragraph response in the comment section. At the beginning of each round, I'll share my favorite bit from the previous week's entries before announcing the next prompt. As I announced in June, at the end of the year there will be a spooky prize drawing for ALL participants!
Want to give yourself more entries in the drawing? Go back to review and comment on past rounds if you haven't already. A late entry is just as fun to read for me!
2 winners will be receiving customized horror bottles in the scary book or movie of their choice. (What's a horror bottle, you ask? That, my spookies, is when I decoupage the shiz out of an empty wine bottle to showcase whichever book or movie you choose. They make for some killer decorations! Pun intended, especially if you request a Freddy Krueger bottle.)
Last week's question begged to know what spooky settings you find to be the most bone-chilling. Robin Moran's response hit the nail on the head with the creep factor:
"Asylums get me. I'm enticed by them but I would be terrified the minute I stepped into one. It's the way most of them are left with all the furniture and belongings still there. The wheelchairs that are sitting and waiting as you creep along. The labyrinth of corridors where even the slightest footstep echoes around you. The groaning of an old, abandoned building that sounds too much like the echo of a former sick patient."
This Week's Prompt:
She told you the very first time you visited her at home that the cellar was off limits.
"Nothing," she insisted, and the corners of her mouth turned down. "Just leave it be."
You tried. It was easy enough in the afternoon, with all the bourbon and tea party hats and finger sandwiches made with cucumber and dill, but as the sun went to sleep beneath the horizon of the forest and the moon began to wash the color out of everything with its beams, you began to wonder about the door again.
Perhaps she was simply too embarrassed for you to see it; perhaps it was filthy or cluttered with a secret hoard. But after she drank herself to sleep and lay breathing steadily on the carpet, you became more and more aware of just how very quiet it was in this house. You thought about how she drunkenly mumbled something about how much she missed her dead grandmother before passing out. "She died in this house, you know," she slurred. "She was a very interesting woman."
Sick to your stomach from the alcohol and restless in the unease of the main house, you decided to give into your burning curiosity and ignore your friend's warning. What could be in there that she wouldn't want you to see? The knob of the cellar door was surprisingly warm on your palm when you went to turn it--how strange, when the rest of the house was stark with chill.
What could possibly be inside? After a deep breath and another glance to ensure your friend was still asleep, you turned the knob and opened the door.
Release the Hellhounds!
((ETA: The next round will take place on Saturday, September 7th. Hope to see you there!))