 Horror/Scary: December 27, 2017 Issue [#8670] |
  Horror/Scary
This week: Resolution To Write A Horror Story Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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Let's Write A Horror Story
Let's start the New Year off great...with Horror. If you've never written in this genre, the New Year is a perfect time to give it a try.
You don't know what to write? You have no ideas?
Well, we all know a good opening sentence hooks your reader. So let's start with that.
I love this because even if I have no concept of what my story will be about, I think only of the opening, and then let that lead me to the next thing. So, let's start with, The man in the midnight cloak had no thumbs.
That's a good start because it's interesting, different, and makes the reader want more. Let's continue with more of a description. His cowl drooped low to cover his overly large eyes against the deluge of gray rain. That's good too because your character is in the rain, atmosphere.
He looked ever-so-thin, his arms extending past his knees with eight-inch fingers that tapped diligently at the palms of his hands as though he were sending his body a complicated Morse code. This character doesn't sound human, long arms and fingers, no thumbs.
In response, two similarly clad figures stepped out from behind the old barn. Even though I have no idea where I'm going with this, things are beginning to flesh-out.
The leader sniffed, scanned the farmhouse, his face emotionless except for the small ball of spit that bubbled in and out of his slit-like mouth. The small ball of spit lends itself toward horror . . . I mean, it's gross.
He was ravenous, and the smell of innocence, sleeping and quiescent, drew him forward like a moth to a flame. Sleeping innocence -- children? There's nothing more frightening than putting children in harm's way, just ask Stephen King.
Like black-velvet shadows, the trio approached the house eager with need. These guys are hungry.
The locked door posed as no obstacle, the creatures merged with it, vanished, and then reappeared on the other side. Who and what are these things? The reader is forced to read on to find out. Then the leader sniffed again, and the intruders quickly drifted toward the first bedroom.
Now let me introduce the children. Little Shelby Taylor stirred within her cocoon of warm blankets, her eyes fluttering momentarily like two startled butterflies. The three hooded figures entered, and then stood at the foot of her bed. What do THEY want??? Hey! Bad guys, leave those kids alone!!!
She had been dreaming about being on a boat in the open sea, but as the dream dissipated she sat up, her eyes at half mast. I thought 'boat' and 'half mast' were cool. What happens next?
When she saw the intruders she was ready to scream for her father, more than ready, and she did scream, but the words reverberated only in her mind: Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! No sound issued from her mouth. She had been stricken dumb.
A child calling for her parent's help is a frightening ideal. Daddy?
She made some noise this time, though not much; the word came out as a hoarse whisper. As she stared at the dark, creatures in robes, she swallowed, trying to regain control of her paralyzed throat. They've done something to her voice. She can't speak. What's happening here?
The leader threw back his hood then and reached into her mind.' Everything is alright,' he told her without speaking. 'Relax, there is nothing to fear.'
This next part I remember reading about in a alien abduction book. Shelby stared into his enormous black eyes and began to calm down. She thought a family of owls had entered her room, perhaps through an open window, and now they sat perched upon the foot of her bed. Aliens? My God, these guys are aliens?
'Lie back,' he said. 'Rest.'
She wanted to rest, but her mind kept telling her there was something terribly wrong here, this wasn't a dream. Still, as hard as she fought, she was trapped within the stare and couldn't tear her eyes from them, even when they appeared to be moving toward the head of her bed.
Okay, the scare is coming. This is where you let out all the stops and deliver the final blow.
Shelby watched as the owl-like man reached into his cloak and pulled out a metal rod. It glowed red at the tip as it was brought toward her face, and then was pressed against her temple.
Aliens in the bedroom, kids or not, is scary, but it is not an uncommon story-line. We've all heard it or read it somewhere before. So, you gotta make it different, you gotta think outside the box.
She immediately went numb.
Now the three figures moved to either side of her bed, pulled back her covers and bent over her. Here it comes. Long rubbery fingers gently touched her eyes, her nose, her lips. The prodding digits were then thrust inside her mouth, forcing her jaws open wider than she had ever imagined possible. She heard a sudden pop and crack of sinew and bone but felt nothing.
My God, they're killing her! Why? Why?
A rounded beaker of some transparent metal was placed over her mouth, and then the tall one turned it on. The machine rattled and hummed as a long tube was forcibly inserted down her throat. Shelby felt an intense suction that seemed to reach deep within her as though the very root of her life were being tugged and ripped free. She then watched in horror as a brilliant blue liquid began to fill the jar. As the last of it was extracted, little Shelby, her mouth gaping open, let out a long, soft sigh, and then lay still.
They've done the unthinkable. What could be the reason? What was the blue liquid?
The machine was removed, and then the two smaller creatures fought greedily over their prize until they both had drank their fill. The tall one, the leader, ignored them and quickly moved back out into the hallway toward the next bedroom.
If you want to read the entire story, check it out here . . . "Soul Drinkers"
Until Next Year,
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DEAD LETTERS
The bald writer 
Your newsletter was a pleasure to read. Thank you.
Kotaro 
Great description of the alien's antics, but above all I loved the dialogue. You're the best!
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