#goretober20

[sorunuah]

Day Twelve:  immortal

Word Count:  [650]

You are tired.

You have been here for - oh, it's hard to say. "Here" as in "around," rather than "here" as in your current predicament, of course, not that you're sure on that, either. You know, it's almost funny. No one ever said immortal meant you would heal quickly from injury.

Or, even, at all.

So, you're contemplating your options. You're stuck, in a cave, with your leg pinned under a large rock.

It's really a matter of choosing the option with the least suffering, you suppose.

Honestly, at this point you'd be fine with -

Well. No matter what you'd be fine with (no matter what you'd want), that's not really an option.

If you cut off your leg it won't grow back. It'll bleed until it stops - and you'll probably be unconscious for...a while, if you don't find a way to stop the bleeding quickly. A leg has too much blood in it.

At the very least, not getting a transfusion won't kill you (hah), but who knows how long you'll be out, and if getting out of this cave with only one leg is an actually viable option.

You could just wait here, if someone manages to find you and roll the boulder off, your bones will, eventually, heal.

But then you'd have to deal with starvation, dehydration, all the symptoms and illnesses thereof - you'll get weak quickly, probably lose consciousness before the point a normal person would be dying of thirst, but after a certain point the dryness will make it hard to breathe. You've been there before.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought of being stuck between unconsciousness and painful fruitless coughing fits for the next decade.

The blood loss would be better to deal with - if getting out is a possibility. And even if not, if you can at least find a stream somewhere you'll only have to deal with hunger until someone finds you. Assuming nothing else happens while your body takes its time replacing your blood.

That was how you'd gotten into this mess in the first place, or something like it.

You'd slipped, and fallen, and, you think, knocked yourself into a coma.

Really, you can't even be sure how long you've been down here, given that, and you don't know how long it would’ve taken to heal from whatever brain damage you'd suffered.

Alright, okay, you're stalling -

Though it's not like you really have anything to work with.

A shitty pocket knife.

'Ohhh, this is going to suck,' is your last coherent thought before getting to work, pressing and dragging the knife against your skin like a makeshift saw.

It's only now that it occurs to you that you won't be able to cut through the bone with this at all, and that, at this rate, you might pass out due to blood loss more than once before you even get to the bone.

The knife is dull and you can feel it grabbing and tearing your skin more than cutting.

You've experienced pain before certainly, pain like this even, but other than a finger or two you've got all your parts still connected. And losing fingers is totally different from trying to cut off your leg, god.

You can't fathom how there are normal human people out there that've just done this. Perhaps they had more appropriate tools than a half-dull five-dollar knife from a gas station.

You groan instinctively as you manage to slide the knife just a little deeper than it was, and, yup. You knew you'd hit something eventually - the shock hitting you far before the pain as your thoughts slip away.

Eventually, you will wake up.

Eventually, you will succeed.

Eventually, you will leave.

What other choice is there, when you have all the time in the world? The only question is how much of you will be left, by then.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #gore #horror #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #gore cw #tho its super super light #self harm cw #starvation cw

[tricksterchris]

#goretober2017 #goretober20 #goretober #20 #2017 #bigteeth #alotofteeth #teeth #girl #gore #art #myart #artchallenge #dailydrawingchallenge #dailyart #dailyartchallenge #dailychallenge #drawing #drawingchallenge #drawing #dailydrawing

#teeth #goretober20 #goretober #dailydrawingchallenge #2017 #art #20 #myart #bigteeth #dailyartchallenge #drawing #girl #drawingchallenge #dailyart #alotofteeth #dailydrawing #goretober2017 #dailychallenge #gore #artchallenge

[sorunuah]

Day Eleven:  impaled

Word Count:  [557]

Your eyes turn to the sky to check the time - not long after noon. You’d come out here to the field to spar with your...friend?

They approach and you exchange only the briefest of greetings before getting to it.

And get to it you did - fighting against them feels natural. Fights never last long, though, especially armed ones. Even with a blade, it takes only a single mistake; only a few seconds.

You held a shortsword while your partner held a short lance.

This was meant to be just a routine, normal drill, but. Well, you’d say you’re cursed, but that’s a bit too dramatic. Still, you can’t seem to have anything good.

Well, anyway - the person you spar with just so happens to be someone you would kill, given the convenient excuse. Someone you spend almost all your time with. Someone who makes you want to die.

So when they “slip up” it’s almost not surprising, though, by god, it is - you thought they, like you, never truly wanted the fun to be over, though. You thought - you thought they would never actually kill you because you thought they loved you, but you were wrong, you guess.

You aren’t wearing armor, because, yes, what part of you doesn’t want to kill them (and you wouldn’t kill them unfairly anyway, so it simply wouldn’t do for them to be naked while you wear armor) wants to die.

It isn’t an accident, though it is a mistake. A fuck-up. They’d aimed for your heart and in a moment of instinct you throw your sword up, actually cutting your shirt and coming so close you can feel it slice a layer or two of your skin.

But...they keep driving forward, and their lance only slides to the right of your blade, driving deep into your chest, yes, but not the quick and painless death they intended for you.

The first thing you feel is the fire-hot tearing open of your skin, the next something vitally wrong even deeper, as the edge of their blade slams into a rib and finally falters, and stops.

But that is worse - 

As the blade falters, it drags slowly across your lung instead of a quick, clean puncture. And the traffic it went through caused enough damage to the edge that it tears instead of cutting, and you don’t know how to describe the feeling other than hollow, but deeper than you’ve ever felt hollow before.

And it’s hot and cold at once - the tears burning while your insides feel cold, newly exposed to the air.

You try to take in a breath but it just kind of doesn’t come - your left lung tries to compensate, but it just kind of closes up when you try and you can only get enough air through to let out the smallest squeak.

They jerk the lance back, quickly, like a goddamn novice; it’s not clean and it tears more on the way out than it did on the way in.

You press your hand to your chest wildly, and, oh, you’re already on the ground in a heap, and they’re gathering you in their arms.

You love them, yes. They let you die in their arms, when it’s always been the other way around, before.

If you ever see them again, you’ll kill them.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #gore #horror #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #death cw

[sorunuah]

Day Five:  painful transformation

Word Count:  [558]

It’s late, and dark. You are alone. You need to be alone, right now.

Really, you always want to be alone, but you have such a feeling of dread you need it. You’re afraid of what is coming, and you don’t even know what it is, but here you are, alone, waiting.

You can feel the hair on your arms stand up a bit; makes them feel kind of itchy. You don’t scratch them, though, just sitting and rocking back and forth, tapping your foot to vent out the anxiety sitting low and heavy in your chest.

Eventually, you figure, the tension hanging over you will need to break - it can’t keep escalating forever. It’ll hit the upper limit of the noticeable threshold - sooner or later.

You keep telling yourself that, but as the seconds tick by you start to sweat, still feeling more anxious by the moment.

Eventually the anxiety hits a point where you’re blinded by dizziness and nausea, and it’s then that you notice something’s actually, like, wrong.

You may not know what a panic attack feels like, but the pain in your guts seems far too much for that - less like everything's clenching and burning and more like your intestines are trying to rip free from your mesentery.

Gripping your stomach you fall forward out of your chair. The pain roots you in place as you start heaving, shaking uselessly on the floor.

You can barely carry a coherent thought through the haze, but you do manage to be at least a little surprised that you aren’t literally coughing up your guts - just a pale frothy substance. It doesn’t quite manage to occur to you, though, that that’s probably just about as bad.

Once you finish emptying your stomach, the pain seems to subside - only for a moment, of course. When it comes back, the pain is in your skull, feels like it’s gonna pop from pressure.

You notice that you’re screaming only once you can feel the rawness in your throat, but then it does pop - you hear a sound, loud, wet, surrounding you - and your face is starting to change. Elongate, like a snout.

Your teeth fall out, and you hardly notice.

One arm snaps and bends under you, and then the other, leaving you on your face and knees. The carpet burns against the raw flesh of your new face, and you cry, which in turn, burns more.

You can feel your legs starting to change, too, but it’s becoming overwhelming - you feel like you’re going to black out at this rate.

As if this is controlled by your thoughts, somehow, the pain dulls a bit. Your arms are restructured and new skin grows over the places bone had punctured through, just minutes before. Your legs seem to finish changing not long after.

You take a moment to breathe - though it’s hard, considering your nose is full of blood. You can’t see yourself well, don’t know what’s happening, what you’re turning into.

The break does end, though, and now there’s something new, something moving under your skin that wasn’t there before. Finally it splits from your back, tearing the skin open to two brand new wings - and, you think, a tail.

You feel pins and needles screaming across your skin and you do, finally, black out from the overload of sensation.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #body horror #gore #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #gore cw #vomit cw #body horror cw

[sorunuah]

Day Nine:  injection

Word Count:  [634]

You check the clock on your dashboard as you pull into the gravel lot outside the old warehouse. It’s still early enough in the afternoon that you can spend your few hours here and get back on the road before it’s dark.

The air is cool as you step out of your car. If you’re lucky, you think, you won’t even know what cold is in an hour. You’ll just be feeling good.

You walk up to the old warehouse and use the side entrance. It isn’t actually an entrance at all, just a spot where the siding is torn up.

Either way - you lift the siding and slide your way into the building. It’s dark enough, but the large, high windows let in plenty of light to see by anyway.

There’s a beanbag in a corner next to a couple of rotting couches, and a few people are already there. The dude on the beanbag looks like he’s passed out, but he’s still breathing, and the others are watching him.

You know these people well enough to trust them like this - and they’ve never done you wrong before.

You say hi, catch up, all that good stuff. You don’t pay much mind to the slurring, if anything it makes you feel more at home. You slide off your jacket and take a seat on one of the couches. Discussing day-to-days while you get everything around and ready.

Once you are, you’re handed a small syringe, and you know what to do with it.

The cool liquid passing into you spreads and warms in only moments - the sensation unique and comforting.

You think you can feel the effect right away, stress melting out of your aching muscles, but maybe it's psychosomatic; you’re feeling it because it’s what you expect.

Maybe not.

Either way, you’re feeling it, and that’s the most important thing. Faintly you realize you let go on the syringe, and move to pick it up. Your hand responds, although slowly, and you hand it back off to your friend.

Your body feels like lead, in a pleasant way, so you let yourself sink deeper into relaxation.

It is nice - and you can’t hear or feel anything. You can’t tell how long it lasts, but suddenly you realize you’d almost fallen asleep, and open your eyes.

It’s maybe been a minute or two, and the effects are already obvious. Everything looks a little brighter, a little nicer. You stare at the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and the next thing you know your eyes are closed.

You try to open them again but this time it’s dark. And you can’t really tell how much time has passed, and you also can’t really even tell if you are opening your eyes. You try to lift a hand to wave in front of your face and fail.

You try to speak, but your thoughts feel like sand slipping through fingers, and you can’t remember any words. You try to moan, and you think that might be coming out, but you can’t hear it.

You realize, in fact, that you don’t know how long it’s been since you heard anything, and you are only distantly aware there were people here at one point.

No matter how hard you try though, you feel trapped inside yourself, unable to reconnect to your body and sliding sideways out of your mind.

Even the panic you know you should be feeling seems too far away to pay any mind to.

You might be dying, but at least it doesn’t hurt.

Still - you try your best to stay awake, to keep thinking, even if those thoughts are meaningless. Thinking of a color, a place; but not a memory or a name.

In the end, of course, you do fall asleep.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #drugs cw #overdose cw #death cw #not suicide to clear #but could come off that way #also sorry this is late #i'll probably skip day 10 to keep pace #and day 11 (today) should be on time #*will be #i just finished it :)

[sorunuah]

Day Six:  animal attack

Word Count:  [768]

You are walking home, one night, in the alley, as often you do.

Nothing in the alley would dare to hurt you, and anyone who might is almost always thrown off by your studded leather jacket and partly shaved head.

You are small, though, and there’s always someone desperate enough to hurt someone else that they’ll take what they can get.

So, while you are caught off guard - you aren’t entirely surprised when a large figure darts out from behind a dumpster and wraps its arms around you, hand covering your mouth.

And, well, you like a good show. So - you squeal at first, start shaking, trying to tear yourself from their grasp.

The figure lets go of you with a disorienting shove, and before you know it they have you, back against the wall, their forearm pressing into your throat as the other hand brings a knife up, pressing in dangerously close under your collarbone.

It takes all you have not to laugh right then.

Instead, the attacker seems to take your renewed shaking as a sign of fear.

You weakly take your hands up to theirs, think for a second about begging.

But, actually, you’ve had a bad week, and, as much as you do love a good show - you’re also not a masochist.

So you turn your wrist sharply, pulling their hands down and away. You squeeze until they drop the knife.

You grin, the skin around your mouth beginning to tear, your teeth changing; and you relish in watching the fear slowly grow in their eyes, almost-understanding seeping into their face. They don’t know what’s happening, but they sure know they don’t fucking like it.

This is something you’ve done plenty of times before, and while you never quite get used to the pain, the fun you have is always worth it, in the end.

Maybe someday you’ll get mistaken for just another rabid dog and end up getting put down, and maybe you’ll even deserve it, but that is neither here nor there.

With a voice pulled from your chest, great and growling, you speak, “And what do you think you were doing?” You snarl at the end, mouth torn between smiling and baring your teeth - the two are oh, so close together, after all.

Not once during all of this do you let  go of their hand, doubling over and falling to your knees as you change, your clothes tearing; your claws beginning to dig into their palm.

They wet themself, shaking as you change. When finally you stand back up, you are taller than them.

Now your mouth is turned into a definite manic grin, and you wait expectantly.

“Sorry yet?”

They nod frantically, and you laugh - one short bark. You quickly lace your fingers in theirs, not giving the opportunity to slip away, and bend back, not stopping until they’re on their knees and you hear at least...a few snaps.

Not letting go of their hand, you bring yours, the same one, to their face, shoving them into a lying position with their legs tucked underneath.

You step over them and only now let go, knowing they can’t get away like this. You bring both of your hands to each of their shoulders, and your face to theirs, mere inches away.

The smell hits you suddenly and you faintly recognize the scent of piss, from earlier - but you’re far more interested in the snot, tears, and drool covering their face.

You press your snout down against them and growl, your chest reverberating against theirs. This gets them to sob quite loudly, and you laugh again, before drawing up the arm you’d already broken, and placing it gently between your waiting jaws.

You watch them squirm a bit under you before biting down, rending flesh and crushing bone. They scream, for the first time since this began.

Well - now you’re getting somewhere.

You tear your head to the side, and the scream becomes deeper, more guttural.

Even better!

Now, then. No need to dick around too long.

You press a paw over their throat and flex your claws in, ripping through the flesh easily.

They choke and try to plead, but the shifting only serves to tear things farther, no sounds coming out other than a wet gurgle.

It doesn’t take long from then for them to go limp, unfortunately. But - it’s all for the best. You don’t need to stay too long, and as long as you take care of your clothes quickly, you won’t be able to get caught.

They can’t exactly match your dental records to that.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #gore #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #death cw #gore cw #werewolf

[sorunuah]

Day One:  bleach

Word Count:  [582]

Your hand trembles slightly as you reach out, and he catches it in his, warm and steady. He turns it over, ghosts his thumb across your palm. You take another breath in as you reach out again, fingers touching the plastic of the cup he’s holding for you in his other hand.

He presses it into your hand as you get a hold of it, bringing his face close to yours.

He whispers, and his voice sounds like angels - holy, holy, holy.

“Here,” he says, “take this and be clean.”

You know what’s happening - you know this is death, for you. You know it’ll burn and hurt, and he’ll keep you here until you’re gone, as long as you say yes.

And you’re getting closer every time he asks. Every time he says to you in hushed tones that you will be clean, and perfect, and, most importantly, that you will be holy.

That you will be loved; that he will love you.

Slowly, slowly you bring the cup up to your lips.

He smiles at you, and his eyes are full of love, and you feel, perhaps, the furthest from lonely you ever have.

You tilt it up, up to the heavens, and his hands don’t leave yours, help you tilt, make sure you don’t stop before you’ve gotten it all down.

The burn, of course, is immediate. For a full three seconds you feel like you’ve just become lucid after a long spell of delusion - what were you thinking, how could you let him kill you, this fucking hurts - but as suddenly as the feeling hits you it is gone.

Replaced by something else entirely as you suddenly feel like there’s a weight in your chest, and it gets heavier and heavier as he strokes your hair. You feel yourself slipping already, struggling to breathe without even noticing at first, but once you do, well.

You can breathe surprisingly well, though it burns, but it’s hard to focus on it, feels like if you stop focusing you’ll stop breathing, and maybe you’re right. There’s something about this, about there being no fight to be had - it feels peaceful, until you start coughing, if it can be called that.

More like you’re spasming, but it feels like a cough, just a very limp one, over and over, like you’re gonna cough it up now. Even if you do manage you’re done for -

There’s a strange sound inside your throat and now you are throwing up, and you can’t breathe now, as the foamy liquid is pushing itself up, but gravity is dragging it back down.

Some of it drools out of your mouth, and when did you hang your head? but yes, you’re bent over now, and he’s holding you up, stroking your hair, telling you how good this is, how pure you are now -

It hurts, holy shit it hurts, and you’re getting dizzy from the lack of air - but still, there’s nothing to fight against, so what can you do?

You realize you’re groaning through the spasms, more as they slow. But you feel so heavy, now, and, oh, when did you fall fully against him? He doesn’t seem to mind the mess you are making on his clothes.

There’s nothing left of you, inside or out, and you can be loved, now, you think, laying heavy on the ground, and when did you get there, you wonder, but your eyes are closed, now, and you can’t remember anymore.

#goretober20 #goretober 2020 #writing #horror #gore #religion cw #suicide cw #death cw #vomit cw #flash fiction #goretober #fiction #original fiction

[sorunuah]

Day Eight:  contortion

Word Count:  [814]

It was early autumn when you got the news - your Aunt had died. And she’d left you her “small manor”. But it was already cold then, and the winter was worse.

It was late March by the time you were able to make it out to assess the property. The entire estate, and everything on it, was yours, they’d said. She didn’t have any children of her own, and your mother was her last living relative.

But - your mother was aging, and your younger brother died when he was 10 in a bike accident. So, your Aunt left everything to you.

You took your best friend with you to assess the place, because even in photos the place gave you the creeps. It was a tall, but skinny thing. You weren’t really even sure it counted as a manor, actually. Maybe it was more of a large house.

Amber had gone with you because she loved old rusty things and had a fetish for architecture.

The two of you had each brought trucks, and you were working on salvaging anything that looked worth anything, so an assessment could be made on the building itself.

It was mostly boring work, though you found something of interest every now and then.

Your Aunt had also left you a letter, and a key. The letter was blank, and the key wasn’t for the front door’ you already had that key (and, yes, you’d tried it anyway).

The key was little, and golden, and the top was shaped like a playing-card diamond. You figured you’d keep a lookout for anything with a lock.

There wasn’t much of value on the first floor - just a lot of old books. Her china and cookware were missing from the kitchen, and you wouldn’t put it past anyone to break in and steal things. The place was practically abandoned all winter.

The second floor was a bit off putting, though you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. It was just closets and bedrooms. Sheets and linens, but nothing terribly fancy. Old clothes. Some gold jewelry. You liked the jewelry. Most of it was plain - your Aunt wasn’t one for public extravagance, after all.

Meanwhile Amber wouldn’t stop going on about how these old silver mirrors she’d found were made, “back in the day,” as if she could tell how old they were. Well, maybe she could, honestly, she wasn’t dumb. Just because all mirrors look the same to you doesn’t mean there aren’t some kind of tell-tale signs.

Once you both made your way up to the third floor you could tell what had unsettled you before - some kind of awful rotting smell. Maybe there was some old wallpaper up somewhere that had rotted and grown mold.

Still, you set to looking around this floor - which had an art studio and a drawing room which your Aunt had used for writing. She’d published a series of books, gotten moderately wealthy, both the manor and the couple cars out front, and invested the rest of the money.

Even after she stopped receiving royalties she’d been set until her dying days.

The fourth floor was almost completely bare.

Other than the smell, your time here had been rather pleasant. Here, though, it was thick and cloying. You’d both wrapped bandannas around your face to block out the smell (and maybe whatever mold spores were floating around). Even so, the smell was nigh unbearable.

When you actually made it up to the relatively small attic, Amber had vomited, and you almost did just from the sight of it. It had a few wooden crates, filled mostly with old photobooks, and an old chest with what looked like rotting leather on it.

It had a golden lock - the key.

You then realized the smell was coming from inside the box.

What the hell was in there? Did you even want to know? You gestured to Amber, and she shrugged. You took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and launched yourself into a coughing fit you had to go back downstairs to recover from.

Once you could breathe again, you went back up to her, and the box, and inserted the key. You looked back at her, and she grabbed your hand.

You threw open the lid, and, as soon as the shock faded, you did, in fact, vomit. Somehow, an old man’s entire body was contorted into the chest, only just enough meat left on it to keep the bones from falling inward, despite the precarious position.

And, sure enough, the smell was coming from in there - a dark, sludgy pile of what you can only assume is organs that’d been left to rot for - for however long he’d been in here.

And, god, you can only wonder one thing - was he shoved in there after he was murdered, or was he locked up alive?

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #body horror cw

[sorunuah]

Day Seven:  monster

Word Count:  [866]

It is dark, and you are alone, in the woods, for the moment.

You come out here often with friends to smoke - to get away from the city and relax. You’d drink out here too, but you aren’t terribly willing to stay here longer than you need to. As much as you love the quiet, you know better than to stay after you smoke.

Of course, you come out here during the day sometimes, and just wander around - it’s part of the reason this is where you come, since you know the area so well.

You can go off-trail easily if you need to lose someone without getting lost.

Although, you did come here with friends, and you don’t intend to go anywhere without them, but one had gone off to check the road, while the other wandered off to piss not long after.

It’s hard to say if they’ve been gone too long, but you’re not worried yet either way. As long as they both stick mostly to the trails they’ll be fine.

You take another drag, bored of waiting. A second later you hear barking, and curse. It startled you, but there’s a dog that lives not far away, so it’s probably nothing. You can’t really tell if it’s the same bark or not - you’ve never heard it sober, after all, so you don’t exactly remember what it sounds like.

But - that dog lives kinda far away, and it’s on a chain - this barking is getting closer.

You look around for your friends, but you don’t see or hear them, so you head up the hill, into the woods. You’ll be able to see the trail from up here.

You make it halfway up the hill and climb up a tree, content that you’re well hidden among the branches.

And then, you wait.

After a moment you realize the barking has stopped, and another moment later you think you can see the shape of the dog approaching the trail. It looks - it looks really skinny and dirty from here. Maybe it’s not the same dog after all, but it doesn’t seem to have a collar or an owner, so it’s probably just a hungry stray.

You’re about to come down the tree and head over, to see if it’s gonna be a problem, when you notice the dog turn to attention, and see the outline of the friend that had gone to check the road coming down the trail.

That’s probably not a good sign.

You see him and the dog meet on the trail, and watch carefully.

He approaches the dog, slowly, half crouched, hands out. It starts growling and he stands up straight in surprise.

You whistle to get his attention, and both him and the dog turn toward you. He takes off running (not a good choice, but fine - you can help him up the tree until the dog fucks off) in your direction.

The dog doesn’t seem to follow immediately, howling first. Still, though, it catches up to him before he reaches you.

“Climb up a tree, dipshit!” You call out, but the dog tackles him to the ground, and it’s then that you notice - it’s not just skinny, but built weird. It’s tuck is super high and it’s ribcage is large and showing, kind of like a sighthound but….

It’s also massive. Like, way too big. And, you can’t quite place it, but it’s limbs seem off, too.

Unfortunately, it wastes no time getting it’s jaws around your friend’s neck and ripping, pieces of red and white going everywhere as it shakes its head.

Well.

Fuck.

You - you hope it broke his neck.

Anyway - at least it doesn’t look like it can climb trees. That’s good, you guess, and you’re not really wondering what happened to your other friend, anymore. So that’s good, right?

Really, you’re just trying to keep yourself from panicking as the dog (or whatever the fuck it is) starts making its way over to the tree you’re hiding in.

You realize you’re holding your breath as you wait to see what it’s going to do.

You really don’t expect it to start ramming into the tree with its forelegs. Definitely not a dog.

Not with that much strength; as it slams into the tree, the tree shakes.

You hold onto the trunk, trying not to slip. But it just doesn’t stop, and the branch under your feet snaps. You manage to keep a hold of the trunk, but your legs are now dangling as this thing keeps trying to knock you down.

Eventually it manages to sink its teeth into your ankle, and drags you down screaming.

You smack off of the ground hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, but it doesn’t matter because it’s already on you, teeth around your throat, and it sinks in. You try to grab the sides of its snout in your hands, try to pull it apart, but this creature is way stronger than you are.

You feel its claws in your chest, as well, and it’s all too much for you - you can’t breathe anyway, but the pain is blinding, and then it is not.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #gore #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #death cw #gore cw #body horror cw #tho this one's kinda light tbh :/ #drugs cw

[sorunuah]

Day Four:  fear of spiders

Word Count:  [667]

The three of you had gone to the local woods on a dare.

Things come out at night around there….

You know all those kids that went missin’ were last seen in those woods?

Nobody comes back out.

While it’s true, some of the neighborhood kids had gone missing - well, it’s a small town. The type a lot of people go “missing” from. The type a lot of people can’t wait to go “missing” from.

And none of the kids were younger than 14, anyway, so. They’d all have been fine on their own.

The worst thing you expect to find are, you shudder, spiders. Bugs in general, and really millipedes are worse, but you’ve always hated spiders.

And you did find them. And, in a way, you suppose they were the worst thing you found. But you are also sure there are worse things to be found in those woods.

You saw the spiders first, though. One ran over your shoe, and you nearly threw up in the moment of panic. You yelled to the other boys, “How long do we have to stay here?”

The other two had chuckled. “Just til’ sunrise! Why, ya scared, freshmeat?”

You gritted your teeth and followed close behind, but not too close, just in case you really did throw up. You didn’t want them to know you were afraid of bugs. Next thing you’d know, you’d wake up with a bug in your mouth. Or, ugh, worse - your ear. But - you may have survived because you stayed back.

You started seeing the eyes after the sun went down, about two hours after you’d headed in to the woods. It was hard to tell the sun was down for sure through the thick canopy, but you’d realized it when you started seeing stars overhead.

The eyes - they were just...nondescript white orbs, as far as you could see them. They’d watch for a while, and then blink, and then be gone. You didn’t even really think anything of it. Thought maybe it was deer, at first.

But the further in you went, the more you saw. And the more spiders you saw. And the bigger the eyes got, and the bigger the spiders got - it didn’t take long for you to start imagining the eyes belonged to the spiders.

The three of you had stayed quiet for most of the walk. You’d chalked it up to them being bored with you, but maybe they were nervous, too. It was hard to imagine anybody could see those eyes and not get nervous. And you knew they saw them, ‘cause you saw them glancing around nervously the last time you stopped to piss.

So it takes a while.

But eventually you notice - it’s been a bit too quiet. You’d been following them by the sounds of their footsteps and them moving brush aside, but now, nothing. Well - nothing that sounded like the footsteps of two 17 year-olds. Actually - it was then that you noticed the other sound, some kind of...wet...crunching? You honestly aren’t sure how you’d describe it, if you even wanted to, which you certainly do not.

And - the spiders.

They were everywhere. Normally, you’d be confident you wouldn’t step on a spider because they wouldn’t be stupid enough to get caught underfoot, but now you were sure you couldn’t move without stepping on a dozen.

And, yeah, they were big by this point. Not so big they didn’t seem like realistic spiders, but, still. Big.

Squinting, you’d noticed that some of the brush ahead was parted - damaged, actually. You’d rushed forward, ignoring (trying to ignore) the spiders, but what you found….

What you found….

What you found was indescribable. You still aren’t sure exactly what you saw, what parts belonged to what - and that was just your friends.

What you are sure of, is that the spiders saved you from whatever those eyes belonged to. Even if they didn’t mean to.

You think your fear might be cured.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #fiction #original fiction #flash fiction #death cw #bugs cw #spiders cw

[sorunuah]

Day Three:  drowning

Word Count:  [661]

It was just the two of you, having come out well before sunrise. There was a bit of a dusting of clouds, but the sky had been mostly clear when you arrived. It’s getting warm already, too.

You’d told her you couldn’t swim and she begged and begged you to let her teach you. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer, and insisted you go to the beach near her place to learn.

“I’m really good in the water, and the tides won’t be changing at this time of day, so it’ll be fine as long as we stay in the shallows! And we can move deeper if you’re comfortable!” she’d said.

You don’t know why she wanted to come out so early, but really you’re a bit too tired to wonder or care.

As of now she’s holding your hand while you try to tread water only a few inches too deep. You’d started maybe a couple hours ago, and the sun is only just starting to crest the horizon now. You’d been hesitant to go deeper while it was still dark.

You get distracted, watching the sun rise, and don’t notice at first that she’s swum off to the side a bit, near some rocks, or something. She gestures for you to swim over to her, and you realize that you’re actually staying up on your own power now.

You make some kind of attempt to get to her, but it’s clumsy, and slow. Still, she praises you when you make it over.

Her enthusiasm is contagious and you can’t help but smile with her. She pulls you into a hug, which makes it a bit hard to stay afloat, but she’s holding you up well enough. Then she presses one hand against your back, urging you forward, further from shore.

You look up at the sunrise again, then back toward the beach, currently void of life.

“Oh, I don’t know -” “Come on! I’ve got you! I’ve had you so far, right?”

“Well….” “Pleeeaaase?”

You try for a moment, but in the end you can never resist her puppy-dog eyes. She leads you further out, slowly.

You don’t notice her hand reaching higher up until it's fisted in your hair. You take a breath to speak and she shoves you under.

Oh. Cool.

You hadn’t practiced swimming under the water much yet, but - 

This isn’t that, right?

She moves through the water smoothly, even with one hand holding you under, moving you both farther out.

The salt water is already in your eyes, and you can’t make heads or tails of what you’re seeing, other than the sunrise, making the water look like it’s on fire.

“Come on, come on!”

You do your best to swim forward with her, following what she does, but -

This isn’t right, is it?

You’re trying to keep up but your lungs are starting to burn.

No, that’s enough, you can’t keep going - you try to fight against her grip, but it’s pointless. You hardly know how to fight against someone in the water - no ground to brace yourself against.

She pushes you down farther, then swims away, too quickly for you to catch up.

She gestures, like she wants you to follow, maybe, but - you definitely inhaled some water during the struggle and now, now you can’t stop coughing. You keep inhaling more each time, like your body’s too stupid to realize it needs to stop, and the only thing you can see is golden red as you start to sink.

You can hear her laughing, though. It sounds far away and you can’t tell if it’s distance or the water or the heaviness that’s settled over you. Your throat and lungs and nose and eyes all burn, and you guess it makes sense, since the water looks like this.

You keep fighting to surface, to breathe, and you keep hearing her laughing, laughing.

The waves are pretty, from underneath, you think.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #horror #original fiction #fiction #flash fiction #death cw #drowning cw #ocean cw

[sorunuah]

Day Two:  crying

Word Count:  [488]

It’s messy. In more than one sense of the word, you suppose. So messy - the whole thing. He’s crying, really, just letting it go. You can’t even remember the last time he cried like this - you can’t.

Admittedly you can’t remember much through the stress of the situation, but still. You’re pretty sure it’s been years; since you first met, probably.

You almost feel - something, almost embarrassment, over the whole situation, it just seems a little over the top. But then, that’s just how he is. You love him. You can’t just stop loving him over this. You can’t.

You can’t.

Your hands are shaking. It’s the stress, you tell yourself. You know it’s more than that, though. Still, you rest your hand on his face, wipe away his tears. In fact - this is why you love him. He’s so honest. Everything about him is honest. His crying is honest, full of feeling.

But really - you’re trying to ignore the situation. Ignore the words coming out of his mouth. You’re pretending it’s not happening. It’s not. It’s not.

So that’s how it is - you’re wiping his tears, holding his face. Whispering to him.

“Shhh, it’s okay, shh.”

It’s hard to speak.

You tell yourself it’s the stress.

You’re still lying to yourself, though.

It’s getting harder to focus on ignoring his words. Everything’s kind of, kind of sliding sideways; kind of feels far away. It’s getting hard to feel anything about the situation, even stress.

He sniffles, loudly. To see if I’m still paying attention, you think. And your hand has slipped from his face. You aren’t sure when it fell, but your right hand rests limply at your side.

His face is covered in your blood. You try to lift your hand, to wipe that away, too, but you find that you cannot. He starts crying again when he sees your eyes move.

“Why did you make me do this?” he asks you, quiet, as he has been this whole time. The only thing is, this time, knowing you won’t be able to react - and, oh, he knows you wouldn’t anyway, but accidents happen - he presses his hand hard on the bleeding (slower, now) wound that is our lower abdomen now, almost like he’s trying to hold it closed. “I love you!”

He’s yelling, now, you think, judging by how wildly his other arm is flailing, but his voice is still quiet, to you. “I still love you! I always will! Why did you make me….”

And that’s the thing. He’s so honest that you know it’s true, and you almost start to feel guilty, though it’s too far away for you to grasp. He feels terrible. You know he does. So messy. So disgusting. So typical, you think, leaning your head back to stare blankly at the concrete ceiling - anything other than his crying face.

You might start crying too. And then he’d only feel worse.

#goretober #goretober20 #goretober 2020 #writing #horror #gore #death cw #blood cw #flash fiction #fiction #original fiction