Horror writing I just finished

Why are you being such a crab?

Well he needs to try harder. I don't understand how anyone could read any genuinely good literature, and then go on to believe that writing 20 consecutive lines, with little to no variation, about a woman smelling a cigarette is something anyone would ever actually want to read.

He's killing a thread just so he can post some fucking dull 'horror story' (the only horrifying thing is his lacklustre grasp on his own vocabulary), when he could post just a simple extract in a /crit/ thread.

stop. you suck you're bad and awufl and i hope you FUCKING DIE!!!
"fuck off back to africa niggeur." the unrecognizable CHADDIMUS DEEP voice uttered as tu mere's moans drifted into the night.

if you seriously want to improve, you desperately need to study syntax, there's no rhythm or flow to your prose at all. just reading literature outside of YA fiction will do wonders for you. that said, good on you for trying and working up the energy to actually write, practice > no practice.

It seems as though Rufus Griswold has joined the thread. As OP I carry on with my writing, I introduce "Finding Waldo"

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In the late 90’s I worked as a school librarian. It was at an Elementary school in Bibb county GA and I had taught English there for three years before I was moved to the library. Until recently the job had just been a volunteer position usually taken by retired educators until it started becoming difficult to find any takers. That’s when the principal asked me to take it over and when he offered to pay the same salary it was impossible to refuse.
There was a lot of concern the year that I started because of the low scores on the reading comprehension tests at the time. It was around the time when video games became really popular and kids were spending loads of time sitting in front of the television. To combat the low scores and encourage students to read, the superintendent implemented the “Get caught reading” program. The premise was simply giving out prizes and having a pizza party for the students who met the reading goals assigned to their grade level.

Each grade had their own “monthly quota” and the books they checked out for the program had to be at or above the reading level assigned to their grade. The first month turned out to be a huge success and it garnered excitement among a lot of children. So as it turned out, bribing kids with the promise of pizza really got them to read more books.
There was one exception from the reading level scale and it was the special ed class. I know that there were a few kids in there that could read but just to give them all the same chance we excluded the level requirement and just tallied however many books they checked out for the month. Each grade level had their assigned day to visit the library with each class allowed about a 45 minute block. The exception was on Thursdays when the kindergarten and special ed students came in on the same day with a 1 hour block to share.

While the older kids from 3rd grade and up were interested in books like Goosebumps and Magic Tree house, the younger ones checked out picture books like Dr. Seuss classics and my personal favorite, the No David! Books. A lot of the special ed kids couldn’t read well or at all so they usually just grabbed books filled with pictures. That is how I first got introduced to Where’s Waldo. Before it was checked out I never even knew it existed. There was only one copy in the entire library so it wasn’t strange that I had never seen it before.
It all started on a Thursday when the students were checking out their books. The first time I saw Where’s Waldo was when a autistic boy named James from the special ed class placed it on the check-out counter. Since I had never seen the book, I decided to peek in because I was curious. I only flipped to one page that just happened to be what looked like an amusement park filled with tons of cartoon people. Looked to me like a fun I-spy type book for kids and I told James “It looks like you picked out a real neat book James! Do you know what it’s about?” He just looked at his feet and didn’t say anything back to me.

As the children were leaving the library the special ed teacher came over to me and informed me about James. “I saw you trying to interact with James. He’s non-verbal so don’t think anything of it, i’ve been his teacher since the start of the year and he hasn’t said anything to me even once. His mother said he talks to her but is shy around others. I think it is a little bit more than that but you know how parents can be. I just thought I’d let you know.” I thanked her for letting me in on the situation and went about my day. I had no idea of what was to come.
Throughout my days at work I would always pass students in the hall and walk past their classrooms. The special ed class was on the same hall as the library so I always passed it on my way to and from. I had the random habit of looking through the windows occasionally when I walked down the hall. Most of the time when I glanced into the special ed class I would just see kids in their own world. I mean there were times when some were involved in a lesson or activity but usually the kids just looked dazed.

It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that I stopped and really took notice of James through the window. The past three school days I had looked in the classroom, I ignored James sitting there with the book. It was just one of those things that I had no reason to pay any attention to, even the days that I would look in more than once. However on the fourth day it just clicked and I recognized the pattern. There wasn’t a moment since he checked out the book that he didn’t have it open in front of his face whenever I peered in through the classroom window.
I wasn’t that concerned for a couple of reasons. It was like an I-spy book and it could take a while to find what you’re looking for. This was especially true for someone like James whos autism could get him lost inside the tightly packed pages with tiny details. Admittedly, I noticed the regularity but I just as easily shrugged it off because of his autism. As a former English teacher I had taught high functioning autistic students and if you’re even vaguely familiar with the condition you can agree with me that they can be very eccentric individuals. Not that it’s always a bad thing, but to quote a metaphor from Henry David Thoreau; “...perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.”

As time went on that winter, the program looked to be really helpful in gaining the children’s interest in books. It was very cold out at the time and I can imagine the kids were spending most of their time indoors after school where they could stay warm. I specifically remember the excitement level being much higher when the children came back to the library for their second visit since “Get caught reading” started. A little girl told me all about how she started to read instead of watching cartoons after school because her imagination was “way more beautiful!” than what she saw on Nickelodeon. She said that the books would take her away for a while in a way that cartoons never did. With my own love of reading it almost made me cry to see how effective this was turning out to be. Happily, I encouraged the children to keep it up while I recorded the numbers to see if anyone fell behind. I wanted all of these kids to be at the pizza party and I did my part to help. If only I could have helped James, maybe this would have turned out differently..

Thursday had arrived and with it came James. The kindergarten class and special ed children were led into the library with the 1 hour block they shared. While the other children sat on the floor by the kindergarten bookshelf James sat at a table facing away with Where’s Waldo open in his hands. I made it a point to sit beside him as he excluded himself from the rest of the students. For a while I just watched. Never turning a page or looking away he stared at that book with his eyes darting small distances across the picture he was focused on. I tried to interact at first by asking if he liked Waldo. When I didn’t get any response I just scooted my chair closer to his and focused on finding Waldo with him.
So there I was, looking among the page for a silly cartoon that wore a red & white hat and sweater with James. It’s like that with kids sometimes, you have to get down to their level to make that connection. It was harder than I expected but a few minutes passed and eventually I saw the familiar face with his red and white hat and pointed for James to see. “Hey look! There he is! We found him!” Expecting to see him smile or at the worst have no reaction at all, his response took me by surprise. Still without talking he turned his head left and right to signal a negative response. Bewildered, I touched the page with my finger and when he shook his head again I actually grabbed his hand gently and placed his finger right on top of Waldo to make sure he understood. Again and to my dismay, he shook his head no.

The next week wasn’t that eventful but I really started to enjoy my new position as a librarian. There were so many reasons I liked that job and how it fit my personality extremely well. Reading had always been my thing and one of the big reasons that I wanted to be an English teacher. It was also very convenient that I loved being around children, resulting to what seemed a perfect career so far. Nothing up to that point had ever led me to believe otherwise. I only tell you these things to give a sense of how normal life had been leading up to what happened. The people that speak out and say they would have done something to prevent what happened that day need to understand how unforeseen it really was.
It was the third Thursday of the month when the children came back to the library for their hour block with myself and both teachers. I loved watching the kids walk through the door with books in their hand because almost all of them came in with a smile. For a second I thought a new student was enrolled because my first glimpse of his face was unrecognizable. From intrigue, to confusion, and finally shock I realized that it was James with a big grin on his face. It wasn’t only that, he was skipping through the door and I could hear him laughing.

The little boy that was always so quiet and antisocial came skipping right up to the counter with the book in tow. “Hi missus Wassell I am ready to turn my book back in!” I didn’t even know how to react. My emotions rocked back and forth between disbelief and sheer joy. All I could do was return his smile and say “That’s wonderful James! You sure are happy today.” and I couldn't help but raise a questionable eyebrow when the last sentence came out of my mouth. “I found him! I really did missus Wassell! I finally found Waldo!” he said excitedly. “Wow James, i’m so proud of you. I saw you trying hard and I knew you could do it. That just shows how determined you are.” I said to inspire him. He handed over the book still smiling and then said “I really like books now. I really want to learn to read more missus Wassell.” That is one of the best things a teacher can hear. I took Where’s Waldo and placed it in the return bin and walked James over to the picture books to find something to challenge him in an effort to support his literacy.
To this day I still can’t remember what book he grabbed. I think it was something about tornadoes..maybe airplanes? Either way it had clouds on the cover. Nevermind that though, it’s not an important detail as far as i’m concerned. After he picked out a book he went and settled in at a table with a couple of kids that were coloring. He grabbed a sheet from the middle of the table and picked up a crayon to join in on the fun. Mrs. Ela, the special ed teacher, was at another table with a few of her students when I called her over.

Tuesday afternoon, two days before the pizza party, I was sitting at home watching The Young and the Restless with a glass of chardonnay when I heard the phone ring. When I picked up Mrs. Ela was on the other line. It wasn’t strange for her to call me to talk about upcoming events or just the day-to-day happenings at school. We talked about the party for a bit and who was getting food from where etc. when she brought up something that was troubling. “So something happened today that I really need to talk about.” I told her to go on. “I had a one-on-one with Mrs. Dressel, James’ mother today after I called her in for a parent-teacher conference. In her mind it was a meeting to praise his conduct and performance in class but what she didn’t know coming in was that I had questions about his home life too. It wasn’t like I suspected her to be a horrible mother or anything like that. I just had a feeling that there was more to the story.” I agreed replying, “It’s not like we think this is a bad thing. Obviously, by blossoming into a happy child James has shown that a little bit of kindness goes a long way. Things aren’t always as they seem though right? It just makes me think that he was deprived of love at home or something.” “I couldn’t have said it better. So anyways let me tell you what happened. We met together in my classroom an hour after school let out. Before I started talking about anything going on at school I asked her how James was doing at home. She told me ‘Just the usual. Sometimes it’s really hard for me to get something across to him but I do my best to help him understand. He still doesn’t speak at all to his father but I do get a few words out of him when he needs something. A lot of times I won’t respond until he uses his voice to get my attention but that's what the pediatrician advised me to do in order to assist his social skills.’ When she finished I was puzzled because from what she was telling me nothing had changed at home.”

Speaking slowly and quiet as she said those last words I realized that what she was saying meant that his mother didn’t notice anything different about James. “What did you tell her?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Well first I asked if she had seen any major change in his behavior. She answered, ‘No nothing different at all. I mean he puts his attention towards different things at different times but other than what he focuses on nothing has changed at all.’ I asked what things she was talking about. ‘Well lately it’s just been picture books he gets from school. He’ll sit there all afternoon fixated on them but again that's nothing new with James. It’s hyperfocus. A lot of kids on the spectrum go through the same thing. So what is this about? Is something wrong at school?’ She finally caught on to me prying so I gave up. I explained, ‘Last week James started talking in class. It just started one morning when he walked in class smiling and his behavior has been different ever since. He started sitting with other children, participating in class, and most shocking to me he was talking. I’ve never heard him say a word since enrollment and I’ve got to say Mrs. Dressel.. I had absolutely no idea that it only happened in school or I would have contacted you sooner.’ Instead of being taken by surprise or crying tears of joy she got quiet. It looked as though she was nervous and she moved her hand to her face to bite her thumbnail while staring at her legs. I thought she was about to breakdown crying when she put her head in her hands but she just uttered the words ‘It’s happened before.’ She stopped having any interest in me or the conversation. Getting out of the chair she said ‘I’ve got to be going home now. Thank you for letting me know.’ I asked her one last question, ‘Is there anything to be worried about?’ and before opening the door to walk out she said, ‘Of course not. It’s just something we have to go over with the doctor, it’s no big deal at all. Thanks again Mrs. Ela.’ and that’s the last thing she said to me before leaving.”

When she stopped talking briefly over the phone, I asked “Why on earth do you think she acted like that?” “I really just think it’s complicated with James and his mother has been through enough with him to recognize certain behaviors. Like the behavior that would normally be healthy for a child might be unhealthy for him. Even though I can’t say I’ve experienced that with the other students; hearing his mom sound concerned convinced me that there might be a problem that I can’t recognize.” Hearing what she had to say I grasped an understanding that helped make sense of it all. I’ll admit it sounded pretty strange but it made total sense.
On Wednesday we announced the students who had met their goal and were invited to the pizza party. It averaged about half the students in 1st grade and up and they had their party that same afternoon after recess. We made sure
the students that couldn’t come got goodie bags so not to discourage them. The little ones and special ed would have their party on Thursday and the plan was for none of them to miss out. Just like Wednesday went with the older children, they would come to the library right after recess. It seemed like good timing too because they could play off that extra energy outside before coming in.

Thursday started just like any other school day. It was chilly that morning and the cold wind bit my cheeks. A little girl called me Rudolph in the hall and proceeded to sing the carol because of my rosie nose. One thing that’s not in the job description: Don’t take yourself too seriously. Kids can be little savages sometimes! I spent the morning grading social studies homework because the teacher was out sick. A substitute teacher was with his class but I often graded papers or planned lessons for whoever couldn’t make it in. It went both ways too and shared responsibility really comes in handy when needed.
At 1:00 PM the bell rang. Kindergarten classes and special ed made their way out to recess. They put their hands on the person in front of them to form a orderly line before being led down the hall and then out to the playground. It was the same thing I remember doing when I was in school. I stayed in the library to set everything up and the pizza was on its way to be delivered. A cooler with capri-suns on ice was under the white folding table where I would sit the pizza, napkins, and paper plates. I grabbed a Kidz Bop CD that I found in the back and put it in the boombox ready to play. Everything was all set and I just had to wait a few more minutes until everyone walked through the door.
As they came in the library I didn’t feel like the only red-nosed reindeer anymore. It looked to me like the cold wind had got a little nibble on a few snouts. I took off a few coats to hang but some of the other kids were wearing sweaters. It was February and Christmas was already over but it felt like Santa might be called back with all of the holiday apparel the kids still had on. Before saying a prayer (90’s remember) and passing out the plates, Mrs. Ela needed to take attendance.

Reported

There were only two names that didn’t get a hand raised and she completed attendance by marking them absent. She looked up at everyone again bouncing her finger from one child to the next. Then her face shifted with a sudden and serious realization. A child was missing. She called out, “Billy! Are you in the Library?!” as she paced by each book aisle to get a look towards the other side. “Sharon. Let’s go outside. Now.” Not being used to her saying my first name I knew this was bad. “No problem, i’m coming. Let me grab Wilson (the school janitor) so he can stay in the library with the students.” By the time I got him in the library Mrs. Ela was just about to step outside with the attendance sheet still in her hand. Before following her outside I looked back at all the children and seeing that a few were spooked, set on quickly calming them down so Wilson could stay and I could go. I told the few girls that were whimpering we were going to get our own slice of pizza that was in the teachers lounge. I see how dumb of an excuse that was now as I’m writing it down. But they nodded their heads and calmed down so I guess it wasn’t that terrible. All the others including James were too busy eating to notice Mrs. Ela when she panicked. With everything Ok I headed outside.

Mrs. Ela had just finished walking the schools perimeter when I met up with her outside. The playground and swings were empty so it seemed likely Billy went back inside the school. “Do you think he went back inside a little after we came in?” I asked. “If he is back in the school then we can find him no problem, BUT if he wandered off into the woods we need to look there immediately. I’m not taking any chances. Follow me.” I listened and then we both started off into the woods behind the school.
After heading straight in about 500 meters we continued calling loud as we could. “Billy! Can you hear me? Billy where are you?! Billy if you can hear us come towards our voices!” I made the decision to go back and get help because the more time that passed the further he could go and not only that but we needed more people out there looking. I should have told the school resource officer as soon as she said that Billy hadn’t made it to the library but I thought he would be right out that door sitting on a swing. When I came back inside to look for help I was happy to see our resource officer in the central hall. I wanted to get right back with the search but he told me to answer a few simple questions first so he wouldn’t just be flying blind. So first he asked “Students name and how long since you’ve seen him?” “Billy, but I don’t know his full name. I haven’t seen him at all today but Mrs. Eva last saw him at recess and her class came to the library about fifteen minutes back. I do not know when she lost sight of him exactly but she is outside right now still looking for him. Can we please hurry this up?” “Just one more real quick and we’re off. Do you know what classroom he was in before he went out to recess?” Thankfully I did so told him, “It is room 204 on hallway C right across the auditorium.”

The officer wasn’t that worried and he informed me that occasionally a student will be left behind by the class or wander off a little way. “You can keep looking, i’m going to the classroom you just told me about. It’s likely after the class went inside he got left behind and thought to head back towards the last place he was at.” When he said that I calmed down. I started to think that he came back in the school and maybe got confused. I was just picturing myself coming across Billy in the bathroom or elsewhere crying because he got left alone. I checked the boys and girls bathroom near the library on hall A and had no luck there so then I headed back outside to meet back up with Mrs. Ela.
At the back of the school if you look straight ahead there is a dirt track and the woods are behind it. To the right is a little play area with swings, a little slide, and a two spring riders made to be alligators. That is where the younger children play and across from that on your left is the normal playground. It was like a lot of playgrounds. It had the ropes tied into a net to climb up, there were tic-tac-toe blocks to spin around, monkey bars crossed from one side to another, a sliding pole to the side of the highest part, and there were 3 slides that connected to the playground structure. The two smaller slides were open but the tallest one was a tube slide that spiraled towards the ground.

Between the play areas was a trail that led to the dirt track. That is the way I took to go back towards the woods and find where she was at. If she hadn’t found him yet I figured we would have better luck looking elsewhere. As I walked passed the playground on my left something caught the corner of my eye. I turned my head to catch what I saw and that’s when my eyes locked on to what it was. At the exit of the big green tube slide was something running off onto the ground. It was on the the furthest end of the playground from where I stood so I could hardly make it out. Heading that way to see what it was I could tell it was something dark running of the end. When I got close enough the dark liquid was illuminated by the sun, turning it red before my eyes.
Blood. This was blood. A red stream running down the slide. When I realized, my heart jumped into my throat. Forcing myself to look inside, all I could see was the blood streaming down the curvature of the slide. I took the steps to head towards the top of the slide. I stopped and closed my eyes for just a few seconds to try and prepare myself for what was in that slide. There was nothing I could have done to have prepared me for the absolute horror I was about to witness.
I got the the top of the slide and crouching down to look inside went against every fiber of my being. The first thing I saw looking inside were a little pair of legs in blue jeans. I grabbed them and pulled knowing good and well that it was Billy I was pulling out. I saw the red and white striped sweater he was wearing but still no blood. When I got enough of him out then I saw the blood being left behind in a trail. A pair of sharp scissors were stuck in his neck from where he was murdered.

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imagine wasting so much time posting so much shit

Imagine wasting your time posting a comment that achieved literally nothing. !

I wrote my story
>

Who is the narrator? Are they from that time period or is it someone detailing history? A good horror story doesn't detail torture with everything right there for the reader to see. You want to drag them along psychologically and maybe even help them feel comfortable before sliding the rug out beneath them. The unknown is the biggest fear for humans, let them imagine a personal hell without taking them along step by step holding their hand through your attention to detail. Example: a dead dog ripped to shreds is disturbing but in itself not scary. The shadow that ran past and the spine-tingling scream is what makes the story true horror. Let them imagine their greatest fear.

I wasn't sure who the narrator should have been from the beginning.
I started off with him being a spectator but ended up with an omniscent one.
I also agree with the decriptions stealing from the imaginative/subjective exerience that one should construct for himself.
I believe the detailed decscription was influenced by what I have been reading the past weeks. (E.g. lots of gothic fiction and a book that described some suggestive torture scenes).

I wasn't too sure where I wanted to get with the story and maybe I tried too hard to make it scary.

Thanks for the feedback btw

This is really bad OP, sorry to say
Keep writing tho

You're vocabulary is really good. That only appeals to the smarter readers I hate to say. To reach a wider audience I've even started to 'dumb down' my descriptions. You're writing reminded me of a book I have been reading about the salem witch trials, but from what I can tell your narrator is that he is an Anglo-Saxon judging by the use of old english. It just would not scare anyone I hate to say. No problem for the response, I appreciate criticism just the same. Unlike the shitposting i'll give someone something they can use. I'll be posting more short horror soon, i'll probably use a pseudonym.

The 'Jenny didn't smoke' story? What stood out to you? I'm just curious because i'm currently experimenting with a writing style that would actually be popular but not complete shit.

im not a fan of either of these stories you got any more?

Here's two old roll charts I've got, if thread is still up by tomorrow I'll write something as well.

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Here OP. Something like this:

The smell of burnt tobacco wafted towards Jenny's face in an unwelcome plume of smoke. She glanced around the deserted parking lot. Not very many students paid any attention to the smoking ban on campus. Besides her black sedan, the parking lot was deserted. Jenny shook her head, and with furrowed eyebrows, climbed into the car. The smell was even stronger now, with her door closed. Without knowing why, Jenny's heart started beating faster. She locked the doors and quickly looked in her backseat as if to get it over with. There was nothing there. The air was beginning to suffocate her; she could feel the lingering smoke burning the back of her throat. Jenny peered around the vacant lot one more time, searching for the source of the offensive odor. There was nobody there. The keys made a jingling sound as she tried to start the ignition. The keys dropped clumsily to the floor, and quickly scooping them up, she jammed them into the ignition, relieved when the car vibrated beneath her.

Jenny didn't know where the smell had come from. Jenny didn't smoke.