As his addled brain began to focus closely on the children, a strange thought resinated immediately, causing him to leap to his feet: these were not children at all! They had small faces with indistinguishable features, save for the large round black, vacant orbits where their eyes should be.
Can You Write A Horror Story In Two Sentences?
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"My oh my, what a big, green head you have!" "What a nice zzzt tasty brain you have mmmarnik!"
Arcadevere
Gentle Lady From Brady Hartsfield Defense Squad
as he write something in his notebook, he saw a silhouette at the corner of his eye. his attention return to the thing he write, which says "if you stop writing in this notebook, you will die"
He looked deeply into her eyes. "So blue!" she thought, as he ripped her throat out with his teeth.
Sam Joyce, I really like that notebook concept. Imagine, you have to keep writing or you will die. Sort of like that Speed movie with the bus. I can imagine a short film of that: some friends come upon another friend -- maybe they are meeting the latter for a party, and they are bringing some beer or something -- and they see that the friend is in a panic, sitting in a chair, sweating, writing frantically. The person says, "If I stop writing, I will die!" You get the picture. I can imagine someone taking over for the friend to give him a rest. I can also imagine them trying to trick someone else into writing.
Anyway, just some thoughts. Really good two-sentence story.
Anyway, just some thoughts. Really good two-sentence story.
The monks carried blessed crosses into the rose laden courtyard, watching the pink light knit with shadows. "They're coming," the abbot said, clutching the wooden stake in his garment and feeling the rumble of motorcycles off the mountain tremble his core.
"On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?"
Yes, you can incorporate word choice, dialogue, imagery, and evoke a sensory response in two sentences. What happens next?
Arcadevere
Gentle Lady From Brady Hartsfield Defense Squad
oh thanks and i like that idea of yours tho, that idea has a back story and it was "me working 24/7 in my drawing table"
(working = writing, typing, drafting, illustrating)
On every hill sat a man, waving to the others, then they each held right hands up, fingers to the sky, and brought them down as one. In the middle of the hills a sand pit opened and spread, and a column of said sand vomited up through the clouds and all the way to the surface of the daylight-visible moon.
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Sitting down at the beat up kitchen table, he opened today's paper to review the yard sale advertisements. "Time to find a new wife." He said.
Crushing, splitting sound of steel and glass explodes from her left and bulldozes right. The texter head rises and observes the mangled corpse with curiosity, disbelief.
....Snap, Crackle & Pop......it was bones, not Rice Krispies.....
She hit send. Noticing a slight vibration the Coroner glanced down at the dead man's bag of belongings.
Not two sentences, just three words, but how about a riff on an old record label?
His master's entrails.
His master's entrails.
Stephen King unleashes on Twitter, again.
And Ms Mod cringes as the phone rings.
And Ms Mod cringes as the phone rings.
Fitzpatrick drops back to pass. He throws.
She had been following the truck for miles entangled in her curiosity with fear gnawing. Did she really see what he did to those bodies?
The world ran out of chocolate months ago but I had squirreled some away in my house. People with guns are starting to gather outside on the lawn and it's getting dark.....
The bell jingled as the door to the small town pharmacy swung open. It wasn't a customer, not a robber, not even a Jehovah's Witness, but something wholly unidentifiable by normal human terms of perception.
(I just realized this belongs in part of a longer story. Some of you will probably see it again outside of this thread.
)
(I just realized this belongs in part of a longer story. Some of you will probably see it again outside of this thread.
)
Charlie Sheen?The bell jingled as the door to the small town pharmacy swung open. It wasn't a customer, not a robber, not even a Jehovah's Witness, but something wholly unidentifiable by normal human terms of perception.
(I just realized this belongs in part of a longer story. Some of you will probably see it again outside of this thread.
