Ghosts are Newbs

If I can blame anything for my current predicament, it would be World of Warcraft.

If I hadn't started playing that game those many years ago, I wouldn't have known about the 'uber' equipment. If I hadn't known about the uber equipment, I wouldn't have decided to run raids every Friday with my guild. And if I hadn't decided to run raids every Friday with my guild, I wouldn't have realized I was late to be getting home to raid thus I decided it was a smart idea to cut through the cemetery.

I pull my jacket tightly around my body as I try to tell myself that all that thought didn't matter - that I was fine. Yet no matter how much I hold my jacket close, I can still that chill run over my spine. It's telling me that this was a mistake. That I shouldn't have traveled this path.

I weave around headstones and bushes, pushing my way through the morbid scene. My footsteps find a way to echo through the night - something they've never done before. I keep up my pace, trying to ignore that feeling that someone was watching me.

Suddenly, the silence was broken.

"Hey! Mort! Look!"

I turn on my heels as fast as the Flash himself only to find myself staring at a set of cliche ghosts. And that's probably the best I can do to really describe them. Sheets, eye holes, and floating. That's all. They hover there for a few seconds, whispering to each other as I try not to piss myself.

"Oh, man. He has a really nice liver!" one finally spoke loud for me to hear. The other one loomed in closer, those hollow eyes voids.

"Oh, man! I needed a liver! Need before greed, dude?" the other spoke before shoving his hand into my side.

There was no blood, no wound, but there was plenty of pain. It felt like claws were digging into my liver, squeezing and twisting. I feel something snap inside and a burning sensation begin to dribble behind my skin. I fall to the ground, my mouth twisted in pain as I give out a hollow scream.

"Dude, I need the liver to make my epic body!"

"No way, dude! This is the last piece before I get enough to get my epic body suit!"

"Come on! I let you have the last drop!"

I'm crawling away now, my vision blurring and my body shaking. Something was leaking inside me and I could feel it killing me slowly. But I crawled with all my might, trying to get to the nearby gate.

"Come on, man! Look at the stats on this thing, it's not even that good-"

"I'm not a min-maxer, dude!"

I was nearing the iron-clad gate. My hand reached out for it, my finger tips already numb. I could feel the gate open slowly as I pushed it open, my mind knowing that if I were to leave here, I'd be safe again. I pulled my body towards my freedom -

Only to suddenly find another ghost right in front of me.

"Lawl, newbs!" It spoke before it dove right into me. I could feel its icy grip travel throughout my entire body, pulling and twisting organs free from their position. The pain is beyond words. I cough up blood, my body starting to shut down.

The last thing I hear before everything goes black is "Kill stealer!"

Reddit: Horror Challenge. 300 words

When Henry heard the whispers from the closet, he didn’t close his eyes as usual. Instead, he sat up, kicking the blankets off his bed as he reached for his bat. For too many nights, the darkness had kept him awake at night. For too many nights, it whispered for him to be a bad boy and to make Mommy cry. And so, just as he was going to bed tonight, he had set up his weaponry.

Henry’s grip on the bat tightened as he approached the door, his footsteps causing the floor to squeak. From the closet, more whispers. Louder, beckoning him. He felt drawn to the closet, addicted to it. His unavoidable adventure started when he stepped out of bed and that closet was his Mines of Moria.

He stopped in front of the door. The whispers were almost deafening. They made his head hurt, his eyes hurt. His body shivered. His arms ached. It felt like a rope was pulling his arm forward. He took hold of the door knob and twisted it slowly.

Time froze.

Time continued.

“Henry?”

And Henry attacked, swinging the bat down over and over again until it splintered.

***

When the cops found Henry standing over his mother’s body with the murder weapon in hand, they knew they were going to have to prepare for the media circus that would follow.

Reddit Sci-Fi Challenge : 300 words

I'm awoken by blaring alarms. In my sleep-deprived mind, I think it's the usual wake up call and I slap at my nightstand's chronometer. By the time I slam my fist down on the snooze button for the fifth time, my mind catches up with my body and I start putting two and two together.

First, the alarm is louder - the ships alarms. And secondly, I can hear running outside my door. People are panicking, which doesn’t make sense. People in my ship don’t panic. They are scientists and soldiers, the best of the best of the best. Myself? I am a janitor. I am allowed to panic and scream at spiders and shadows.

I hear someone slamming their hands against my door as I climb out of bed. They beg for me to open the door. The voice sounds familiar but I can’t place it. I am unfamiliar to the desperation in it.

If I were a soldier, one of the best of the best of the best, I would’ve raced to the door and fought off anything that was harming the voice. If I were a scientist, one of the best of the best of the best, I would’ve thought of a way to help. But like I said, I am just a janitor. I just stand by my bed wearing only my underwear, frozen, as the person's voice grows in desperation until it is suddenly silenced by a blow that domes my door inward.

I don’t know how long I stand in silence as the sound of carnage consumes the outside world.
The lights flicker overhead. And I know, as a janitor, even if I’m not the best of the best, that my lights shouldn’t be flickering – hell, no lights should be flickering. Then the room goes black.

When the emergency lighting doesn’t come back on, I know I’m fucked.

How to Fix Your Life

He wears suits that probably cost more than my entire college fund. And with those eye glasses of his and his hairstyle, I know he probably outspent the meager savings I have in the bank. I sit in the chair in front of him with an air about him that just tells me to go fuck myself -- yet the smile on his lips is warm, welcoming. It is the smile that had suckered me into this conversation to begin with.

"So, let me get this straight," I say as I nervously fidget with the contract he had handed me. They said the devil was in the details and it certainly shows. He had promised we'd put this agreement in writing but I didn't know he'd be making a novel out of it. "I win a game of my choosing, and I get my wish."

He snaps his fingers and points right at me. "That's the tits of it."

I'm not sure if that was douchey of him or if I had just not caught up to the times so I just nod my head and look back down at the contract. "But if I lose, you get my soul..."

I let that part drag for a second before I glance back up at him. That same smile never leaves his lips, yet those eyebrows of his did pop skyward. "Buddy Bear, that's why you get to chose the game. Hell, I'm sitting here hoping you chose golf as the game - my handicap deserves special parking."

He laughs. Heck, I even snort but it’s more for show as I try to figure out how this sort of contract worked out for Johnny in Georgia. Unlike him, I wasn't the best fiddler there had ever been. Hell, unlike him, I wasn't the best anything there had ever been.

I glance down at the contract again, scanning the first line over again. Truth be told, it was the only one I had been reading, my mind just unwilling to believe this was happening. A thousand questions dance in my mind along with a thousand fantasies. I could get a life time supply of money - I wouldn't spend it all like some moron either. Nice home, nice life, nothing too ridiculous. Or I could wish to be famous. Or attractive. Or a genius. Hell, I could ask for super powers and be the next Spider-Man. Spidey get plenty of tail, right?

He snaps his fingers in my face which pulls me back to reality. He leans forward, the glasses on his nose sliding down enough so his eyes peek over the rims and at me. He offers me yet another grin before tapping at his watch. "Buddy Bear. It's about to get Ke$ha up in here -- Tick Tok. You in? You out?"

I stare at him, the world around me growing dull and silent. Time is stretching out and I feel like I'm stuck in an eternity within the count of a second. My stomach hurts, sweat forms on my brow, and I realize two things. First -- yes, he is douchey. Secondly, though... secondly, I was a complete failure at life.

I lower the contract to the table and just stare at the devil. Maybe it’s my imagination but there must be something in how I look because he frowns. I slide the contract towards him before scooting back in my chair. "My life is that bad, huh?"

He cants his head to the side, not following.

I scoot my chair in and just take a step away from the man. "I'm too much of a coward to act. I'm too much of a coward to write. I'm afraid of failure and people and hell -- I hate myself for hating myself." I toss back my head laughing.

"Hey, Chief, that's why I'm here to give you this -"

It's my turn to snap and point. I only hope I don't seem so douchey doing it. "Everything wrong in my life is my fault. And instead of fixing it by hard work, I almost signed your contract. How fucked up is that?" I pause, blink, and then whisper to myself. "How fucked up indeed."

I shake my head as the man rises from his seat, that smile of his returning. He tries to begin his act again, explaining about how he's bored and wants to help and how all my troubles were just bad luck. But I just stop him with another douchey snap.

"Take your golden fiddle, shove it up your ass, and go," I smirk as I collect my coat from the wall hook and call over my shoulder with a smirk “Oh, by the way... thanks.”

"For what?"

"I must have potential if you're offering me this contract. I don't know what the fuck I'm capable of doing but I know you guys don't come around to just anyone." I blow him a kiss as I open the office door and head on out.

He calls my name and I turn one last time towards the devil. He no longer looks happy and cocky and douchey. Truth be told, I swear I see an ever-so-slight wisp of smoke coming off of him. He meets my gaze over the rim of his glasses and says, "Just because you didn't sign, that doesn't mean we won't be seeing each other."

"I'll take that bet," I say as I turn around before shouting over my shoulder. "You're going to regret - I'm the best there's ever been."

And then I give him the finger.