Your sugar rush has already faded, your masks are collecting dust on the floor of your closet, and it's another year before you get to bust out the cat ears...
But NEVER FEAR! I am here to keep on keepin' on with the Halloween-cheer. I must say, I was DYING laughing over the incredibly inventive spooky Halloween stories you send me in response to my last writing challenge, featuring renegade and evil appliances. You all rock my world. I've posted a few below.
From Kate, of I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read:
Sam Chase looked up at the decrepit Victorian house and let out a deep sigh. “Really?” He mumbled to himself. He shook his head in frustration and continued to the front door. He knocked once then twice.
“Hello!” he yelled at the door. “Anyone ho-”
Before he could finish, the door swung open and a cloud of dust flew from its hinges. Sam tentatively stepped in. He looked behind the door and saw no one. Confused, he walked further into the foyer and saw a note on a small table up against the wall. It read, “Went to the store, will be back soon. The basement door is through the kitchen. -Mrs. Kritcher.”
He pushed past the kitchen and ambled down the wooden steps to the basement. He looked around in the dim light and flicked on the flashlight he always kept attached to his belt. A ticking sound coming from the back of the large room caught his attention. He walked toward the noise and saw a coal-fired boiler opening through the darkness. The grate of the boiler resembled teeth and goosebumps spread up his arms. Flames licked around in the massive metal container as he approached it.
A loud moan came from inside the boiler. Sam jumped back and knocked over a tower of boxes that were stacked behind him.
“Help me!” The voice seemed to encompass the entire room.
Sam ran back toward the voice. The opening of the boiler was just big enough for him to fit through. He touched the surface of the door and pulled back at the scorching pain. He blew on his hand and cursed. He looked around the room and found a pair of heat gloves. He pulled the gloves on and opened the door.
“I’m here! Are you alright, what happened?” Sam’s eyes squinted against the heat and light of the fire. He wedged his body in further and felt a push from behind him and fell.
He never felt the slamming of his body against the burning bottom of the boiler. His ears never registered the creaking of the latch, locking him in. He never felt the satisfied grumble that came from the blood lusting boiler that swallowed humans whole.
From Zoe MacDonald, "Over the Oven"
It was a bad idea. I mean, I had always prided myself on being an intelligent, rational teenager who made good choices. So, why I had agreed to go to the house, was beyond me.
“This is a bad idea,” I murmured as we hiked up, sleeping bags tucked under our arms.
One of my girlfriend’s friends laughed and threw her hair over her shoulder. “It was a bad idea bringing you.”
“Don’t listen to them,” my girlfriend said and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “What else are we supposed to do on a Friday night?”
I shrugged. It was pitch black now that we had left the glow of streetlights far behind us. “White’s are having a party. We could do that.”
She smiled and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Silly. We can do that any weekend. This is going to be gone in a couple weeks.”
All the more reason to leave it, I thought but didn’t say anything. I was already having enough issues with her friends.
In the end, I knew we should have left.
One of the jocks broke down the door and we all filed in.
“Cozy,” one of the nameless friends said, turning on a flashlight. “Let’s go.”
We all followed after him and that’s when we heard the rumbling . An ominous sound that rattled the whole building.
“What was that?” one of the girls asked, grabbing onto his arm.
He shrugged, detaching her in the process. “Let’s check it out.”
I wish we hadn’t.
We all tiptoed along like there was someone else who might hear us and eventually found ourselves standing in what resembled a kitchen from the 1950s.
Right in front of us, there is a stove that seems to be making the rumbling noises as it cast an eerie glow all around us.
“What is that?” one of the guys asked disgustedly, as if some freshmeat had just taken his seat in the lunch room.
“Oh my gosh!” one of the girls cried. “That’s totally unsafe. Let’s get out of here.”
Everyone nodded and turned around but then the oven door was flung open and then from behind someone screamed.
“The door’s locked!” one of the girls cried but I knew it was all too late. I had read more than enough horrors and had seen my share of thrillers to know what happened next.
And the winner of the Halloween contest, and soon-to-be recipient of a copy of The Replacement, by Brenna Yovanoff...
From Elena Thomas, "Frankenfridge":
I was bored, so as usual I decided to go get something to eat. I’d always had a bad habit of eating when I was bored. Today it was an especially bad choice.
When I was just about to pull on the fridge handles to open the old piece of crap, I heard a soft laugh. It was barely audible, but it was there, sounding amused and delighted.
I looked around the kitchen, searching for the source of the noise.
“Who’s there?” I asked, hesitating and spinning around.
“Oh, you heard me!”replied a deep voice coming from nowhere.
“W-Where are you? Who is this?!” Turning around in circles, I saw a slight movement on the fridge. The cheap magnets covering the fridge had aligned themselves to resemble what looked like a smiling face.
I screamed so loud my own ears rang. “What the?!”
“Oh dear, don’t be scared, I know you were coming here to eat. Open me up and you will find something very nice in store” The magnets winked.
Whatever the hell was wrong with my refrigerator, I was absolutely sure it was not supposed to be talking to me. I was seriously going crazy. Either that or I was dreaming. I pinched myself hard, wondering if dreams really work that way. Nothing happened, so I decided if I wasn’t dreaming, I probably was crazy, and might as well embrace it. There was no way this was real, so might as well have fun with it.
“What are you?” I asked with more confidence. I knew I was crazy but that was slightly okay with me.
“I’ll be truthful and tell you,” the fridge said, smiling, “I’m a zombie. A zombie fridge. Probably the first of my kind. Wasn’t until recently that I woke up. But seriously, I am not trying to eat your brains or anything. That is just a cruel stereotype.”
“Huh, okay,” I said, actually curious, yet not scared, “What’ your name, zombie fridge?”
“Good question, I don’t know.”
“Alright, you can be….” I tried to think of a name appropriate for a zombie fridge, ”Frankenfridge!” I exclaimed. “It couldn’t be more fitting!”
“Hooray!” The jubilant fridge cheered, flashing open its doors.
I could feel an awesome friendship coming on.
It’s a good thing I was crazy, cause no one in their right name would be friends with a Frankenfridge