2025 Spooky Story Competition

sHELL COMPETITION

AUTUMN 2025

This year, Shells could enter either a short story or a poem.They could choose to write freely or use a starter sentence provided by Mr Clapham. Our winners had a choice of one of the three prizes seen in the video and our first place winner also received gift vouchers for both Daunts books and Costa to use in Summertown!

WINNERS: 1 PLACE: OLANNA MKUSHI ST RUNNER UP: JACK JAMES RUNNER UP: ROSANNA VILLIERS

Well done to all shells listed below who entered the competition! Their entries and those of the winners can be found on the following pages

AVREEK UPPAL CAELAN MACDONALD ROMILEY WEBB WILLIAM JONES LIZZIE CHIRNSIDE MASSI BRADY JAMIE GRIFFITHS ELIZABETH ELLIOT CHUYUAN ZHANG MICHELLE AYAPONG FELIX HOWARD BRODY WITHERS ANNIE CLARKE THEA MOYNIHAN EMMA LOGAN FLOSSIE TURNER DOROTHY JACKSON DELILAH EDEN VASYA NESKOROMNYI

winner!

The Raven

Still, sitting, perched upon a Awake, aware, sure of a Prepared, equipped, waiting for a- The deadly, lethal, fatal bird lay. Against the midnight sky, on the- Deep down inside the Up ahead relaxed rested the Just the wind nothing more.

A BRANCH, A SNAP, A FLUTTER, Nothing more if that

THE CRY THE PAIN THE FACT THAT Nothing will ever be the same

Something. Must. Change

Still, sitting, perched upon a Awake, aware, sure of a Prepared, equipped, waiting for a- The deadly, lethal, fatal bird lay.

BY OLANNA MKUSHI

It was a night sculpted from an abyss. Stars shared an ethereal glow beneath the crescent moon.An intimidating forest loomed ,its enormous trees watching over the land. Dark gnarled bark,damp soil.The silence was absolute -until smoke curled into the sky .A breeze carried the sting of ash. Footsteps. Fast. Desperate. Two boys darted between the trunks, pale faces flashing in the moonlight. Behind them,the smoke thickened ,licked with red - not just fire. They didn't look back. Couldn't The wind rose,howling. The trees creaked,swinging like they were cheering the chase,eager for a kill. The boys stumbled, sprint slowing to a ragged jog , then to a walk. They gasped for air,bracing for what came next. A crack - close. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't the fire. It was a laugh. The boys froze,breathing hard,staring into the dark. From the smoke , a figure stepped out - tall,thin,moving too slowly to be human. “Boys…” It was their sweet mothers voice . Soft. Sweet. But when the moonlight touched her face,their stomachs turned.Her smile was too wide. Head tilting unnaturally. Her eyes - empty. “Come here,” she whispered. They stumbled back,shaking their heads. “Come here,” This time it was louder,sharper - and the thing began to run. The forest erupted - snapping branches,pounding feet,the boys

runner up!

screaming as they bolted into the black. The wind roared,smoke choking the air. Then - silence Two thuds echoed through the trees. Laughing had started again.

BY JACK JAMES

runner up!

Torn and bleeding, her eyes still wild and desperate, she slid behind a rock and for a moment she believed she was safe. Panting heavily, crouching against the rock, the tumbled down rock gave way. The desolate expanse of gravestones felt even bigger than it did before. She quietly stood up again, the growing sickly red gash on her knee was getting increasingly painful but she pushed on in fear of what she would encounter if she didn’t. Red faced with sweat dripping down her aching body, she sprinted towards a sturdy oak tree nearby. The small stone that she thought would cover her was no longer good enough. When she arrived at the sturdy tree, she checked her surroundings with which, fearful, bloodshot eyes. After not seeing anything, the girl sat down to rest her body which felt like it had been cut up with only threads of skin holding her together. Twisting roots from the tree served as a seat, she sprawled her legs out, not having the energy to move them. She wishes dreadfully that she could shut her tired eyes and sleep, maybe even forget where she was, but it wasn’t safe enough. The tree’s ancient arms were spread out above her with a steady swaying rhythm as if someone was swinging from them. The leaves served as a roof as they rustled and whispered amongst each other.

Finally, the girl stood up steadying herself with a knob on the tree, her hand was so blistered though she had to let go almost immediately, falling back on her crippled knee which gave way and left her crawling back to her feet. So was so injured, making it out alive seemed pretty slim. Her eager eyes started to survey the floor for something to cover her knee, anything to stop the steady, sticky tricking stream of red that was continually sliding down her leg. Her forehead also had a gash on it, which left her silky hair with dried clots of crusty blood all over it. Anything to keep the blood in her body. As she was looking downwards, I took my chance and I pounced. I was perched on a thick branch right above her head, swinging my feet from side to side before I pounced. I will always remember the look of terror in her eyes and the sadness in her face as my claws tore through her skin. My face broke into a wide smile and I licked my chops as brick red juicy blood started pouring out of her like a burst pipe. Her face was frozen horrified. Her last memory will be my wide gleeful face because I really couldn’t be more happy. I licked my fingers one by one, once I was finished, trying to savour the taste, wishing it would last forever.

BY ROSANNA VILLIERS

As soon as I walked in something felt wrong. It was quiet and eerie, this was the only hotel in the village of Kingstone. It was the only place I could stay for my entrepreneurship at the farm. It was a very run-down place; it was next to a pub and a shop that were only open at very odd times. The hotel itself wasn't that old, it seemed out of place in the village, it was something I couldn't explain. The locals said to be careful near the hotel and don't leave your room at night. This scared me and I was shocked to hear this what could be going on there. My first night, I stayed in my room all night and locked the door shut. I heard some very disturbing noises - people screaming and shouting. Then, there was someone trying to get in I quickly hid under my bed and stayed there someone entered looking for me. They left shortly after. That's when I got my things and jumped out of the window. I ran to my car and went to the farmer’s house. I stayed there at his house and the next morning I left and I never went near that town again. Shortly after I left the town, it burned down with no trace to be seen.

BY AVREEK UPPAL

The Haunting of the Midnight Crypt

Rowan descended into the Midnight Crypt, an eerie sepulchre standing, silent and watchful, on the outskirts of Hawkley. The off-putting name was given to it by the villagers who sworn to have heard low moans and a phantom green light surrounding it at midnight. Rowan, a thrill seeker, was never scared by this name, and he continued into the depths of the crypt. As he reached the bottom, a cold gust of wind made his candle flicker in ways that cast ghostly projections on the rough sandstone of the crypt. Coffins lined the walls, heaving with an unseen weight. Portraits of long-lost ancients lined the columns standing still in the dark muskiness of the sepulchre. At the end of the row, a coffin lay slightly ajar, and low moans echoed from somewhere deep in the caverns of the crypt. Rowan, restless and craving excitement, eagerly followed the sound. Suddenly, high wails pierced the air like an arrow and phantoms were crawling out of the portraits stretching their long, green fingers out to Rowan. He checked his clock. 00:00. Midnight. He ran, but the crypt's tunnels twisted and morphed, constantly changing direction. Rowan finally stopped in the centre of a low circular room. In the centre stood a woman in tattered white clothes, stained with blood. Her low growl sent chills into Rowan's soul, and he gazed with terror into black, endless eyes. Blood splattered the walls, and a blood-curdling scream rang through the night. Rowan was never seen again.

BY CAELAN MACDONALD

Halloween Nightmare

Whoooo, whoooo the wind blew in Ben’s face, he was cold as an ice pack, his insides freezing. Ben had now been stuck in the woods for days on end, no water or food, he was starving. It was Halloween and he had been trick or treating with his friends when Ben must have taken a wrong turn, he’s been lost in this never-ending, dreaded wood since. Ben, now feeling on the edge of death, was losing hope. These woods aren’t just any woods, they say over 100 boys and girls have died in these woods, these are haunted woods, the tree branches are long and crooked, they feel like they’re trying to reach and grab you. You feel like the woods are closing in on you, Ben had been shouting for days, begging someone would answer his desperate calls, but no-one ever did. Suddenly Ben felt a coldness surrounding him, he felt a presence was near. Then he felt a tap on his back. “Who was it?” he shouted, his heart beating as fast as a clock. “Come out, I know someone’s there, I won’t be annoyed, just come out”. Ben running deeper and deeper into the woods, trying to escape whatever demented creature chasing him. He could now see a shadow drawing closer and closer, the shadow inches away, then the shadow jumped.

BY WILLIAM JONES

The Hooded Shadow

These were the darkest woods they had ever seen. Sinister silhouettes of the towering trees loomed over them as the sky faded darker. The suffocating canopy of trees cast long imposing shadows that stretched out in front of them. Blood-red leaves fell all around, creating a jarring haze blocking their vision and making them squint to see a foot ahead. The leaves were jagged, decaying, and had a horrid slimy texture that stuck to their skin. The crunchy foliage along with the unnervingly soft and swampy marshland meant that every step they took was accompanied with a cracking noise followed by a squelch. The skeletal hands of the reeds sucked and pulled at their trainers leaving them fighting to stay above the earth with every step. The two of them were following Lily very closely, anxious not to lose sight of her; so, when she suddenly stopped, they fell to the ground. Joseph and Liam knew immediately that something was wrong. Something was very wrong indeed. Lily was bone white. Hands shaking and having violent tremors. Joseph called her name, but she was so frozen with fear all she could do was point. That was when they saw it. A hooded figure standing beside a tree was swaying ominously in the wind. All they could see was its eyes. Bloodshot and wild with rage.

It stopped swaying.

It blinked.

With a flash and a crack, a sickening wave of heat forced them to the floor in agony.

BY ROMILEY WEBB

Ava ran desperately thorough the garden, searching frantically for a place to hide, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight on a gap between the doghouse and the fence, she dashed in there quietly, willing herself not to make a sound. The wind whistled and rustled the autumn leaves as she heard gentle thuds move closer. As the footsteps receded, she started breathing shakily, suddenly, a head poked round the doghouse, “Gotcha! Okay, your turn to seek now.” Callie said. “I can’t believe you found me.” Ava whined to her older sister “Okay, one, two, three—” “Kids, time for dinner!” called their mother, Charlotte. After dinner, Ava was sent upstairs, her parents saying that a six-year-old needed a lot of sleep, to which she objected profusely, but in the end obliged. She crept up the creaking stairs, grumbling about Callie not having to go to bed, as she came to her bedroom, she noticed that the window was open which her parents had said no-one should open to conserve heat in the house. She walked over and tried to pull it shut, as she did this, the paint made a crackling sound as it split and fell into the ravine far below and disappeared. She gazed downward and scoured the gorge for the water that ran down, looking for her dog which had disappeared a week earlier, her parents had said that Lucky would leave for a few days to look for its old owner who was declared a missing person. But Lucky had been gone longer this time. The shrill sound of her mother asking if she was in bed yet rose Ava from her thoughts. She called back that she was and hurried into her bed.

She fell asleep swiftly as her mind drifted through her thoughts and memories of the week. A soft sweet voice called her quietly, “Ava, are you there?”, she stood up and followed the voice, as she looked to her side, she saw Lucky, wagging her tail, walking alongside her. The voice was getting further away as Ava strived to find who was calling her, up the stairs her slippers shifting from one step to the next. When Ava finished the stairs, she realised that she wasn’t in her house anymore, she was in a meadow full of trees and wildflowers, still the voice beckoned, and she felt a force driving her towards it. Suddenly she saw a glimpse of the person who it was, long dark hair and a white dress, like an angel, she thought, going up a tall pear tree. She followed up the wild twists and turns of the branches climbing higher until she saw on the ground, Lucky and the woman she had seen calling her. “Jump,” the woman said, “I’ll catch you.” Ava shook her head, there was no real reason not to. Lucky who had been wagging her tail stopped as the woman told her she had to and started climbing to try and pull her off the tree. Her voice getting harder and her eyes angrier, as the woman got very close Ava realised that the woman wasn’t a woman at all. Ava woke up crying and looking around. She soon realised that she was at the edge of the roof and not on a tree as in her dream. The clouds were forming in a cluster above her head, the breeze made her stumble further towards falling down the ravine. “Ava! Get down, you could fall from there.” her mother called desperately. As Ava turned around, she saw herself, covered in blood, her clothes ripped, and her throat torn out. She turned and looked down into the ravine again and felt a sharp push force her off the roof and into the inky black darkness that swallowed her as she fell.

BY LIZZIE CHIRNSIDE

An Encounter with the Lantern Men

The darkness was descending on the marshes. The wind was rustling in the trees and the lonely owls were hooting in the distance. “What is that?”, said my dark-haired friend Oliver, who was pointing at a warm orange lamplight trembling through the reeds. Our group of three stopped for a while, staring at the light intently until my friend Jack, an old Norfolk boy, turned as white as the full moon glaring at us from above. “Stop looking NOW!”, said Jack, pushing us down to the muddy floor. “Those are the infamous lantern men! Haven’t you heard of the legend? They are evil pixies who lead unwary souls to their deaths! If they don’t drag you to your watery graves, they will steal the very breath out of your lungs!” Jack and I stuck to the floor frozen in fear, but Oliver laughed it off. “Don’t be such cowards, evil pixies don’t exist! I will go check for myself”. Oliver laughed at the warnings, and when he finished his Coca-Cola, he marched off into the marsh, searching for the lantern light. We begged him not to go but he headed off into the dark, whistling brightly. Three days later the coastguards found his body washed up by the sea. He was still wearing his red crocs. To this day locals walking along the marshes on a warm August evening can still hear his whistling among the reed. BY MASSI BRADY

It was late at night in the gloomy night with the owls hooting and the crows making loud caws. Where all of the shell boys were sleeping soundly in there beds but one of them went to go to the bathroom and didn’t return so the next day they all woke up with a bright smile on there face not knowing one of them got took. They all went to school and did there lessons although one of them was missing. But they thought he was sick. They went back to sleep and 4 boys woke up with a shock when they heard a mysterious loud noise. They went up to check what it was then a creepy figure was standing in the hall way but when they cautiously went close up on it vanished they thought they were seeing things so they all went back to bed except in the pack another went missing. The next day they were starting to think this was not think that boy was sick so they waited till the next night but weird things started to happen in the lessons like a figure was standing in the background and a student got lit on fire. The next night they all had a plan and one of them had a flashlight so in the misty cold night they all went out as sly as a fox creeping past all the hallways then all of a sudden, a thud came from downstairs they all jumped up and felt something crawling in there skin as they took a step by step. They reached downstairs as another thud came this time one of them vanished they all ran upstairs as fast as a cheetah but a doll was blocking there way one fainted and then it just left one. Then he got closer and closer then. He woke up.

BY JAMIE GRIFFITHS

I was doing my usual round of Shotover park with Nellie although I had set off slightly later than usual. And it now being winter, the weak daylight hours didn’t hold much light for me to go by. All the same, I was grateful to be outside in the cold, refreshing air, ambling along at my own pace. Nellie seemed content too, rushing about in the undergrowth. I could see her white, happy tail waggling in a bush, snapping twigs, leaves – then suddenly she was off again – another smell, leaping and jumping. I could only imagine what she found so exciting about a chewed up, muddy stick. I, on the other hand, was feeling quite calm. The air was cool, but I had my scarf and coat on. I just turned a corner when I bumped into a couple walking their dog. Nellie seemed to be making friends so I stopped and said hi whilst waiting till Nellie would find interest in something else. “Oh, hi” said the lady. She looked a bit frazzled. She stared at me. “Quite cold, isn’t it?” I said to break the silence. There seemed to be a long pause until either of them registered what I said. Obviously, their minds were elsewhere. It was the man who finally answered, “Oh, yes. I think it was…” Then he trailed off as if he forgot what he was going to say. A little confused, I turned to Nellie and seeing that she looked like she was wandering off again, I too started to walk on. “Wait!” cried the woman, “I wouldn’t go down there – it’s – there’s a-” But before I could hear what she was going to say, the man shushed and elbowed her quite harshly. “Huh” I said, under my breath as the odd couple walked on, but I put it to the back of my mind and continued on my way.

The air suddenly felt as if it had dropped 10 degrees and I could see my breath in a cloudy puff before me. The trees and bushes now formed a tunnel over our heads, giving the narrow path quite a claustrophobic feel. Nellie was walking right by my ankles – almost clinging and leaning on me. This was quite unusual of her but I assumed she was tired. A mist was starting to form, seeping out of the trees to the left and right of me. I felt like I was walking on for ages there, trapped with nowhere to go but onward, and all the time the light slowly draining, getting darker and darker. By this time, the mist was forming around my ankles. I was walking through a river of ghosts. Then I saw him. Dressed all in black, the figure looked like it had just been birthed from the shadows. Its back was facing me. I didn’t know how I knew it was a man or even a human. But the fact that I knew he was a real creature so similar to me made it even scarier. My heart was thumping so loudly and my breath felt short and trapped. But I couldn’t stop walking forwards towards him. Desperately, my hand went down to read for Nellie – but she wasn’t there. My eyes reeled, and my head span. Twisted fears and fantasy entangled in my mind. Throat rising – I couldn’t breathe – I couldn’t look anywhere but at the figure, getting slowly closer to me. Suddenly, I heard a scream. I was on the floor. My hands covered in mud. Nellie was kneeling over panting on my face, quick, short breaths almost as if she had been running. Who was it that screamed? Was it me? My thoughts were so entangled, I couldn’t think straight. Wilfully, I sat up, gripping Nellie for support. BY ELIZABETH ELLIOT

Haunted Metro Station

It was just another day monitoring the busy subways of Osaka. I worked as a nightguard. Like any other mundane job, I sat at my chair and stared at the blaring security footage, making sure everything is under control. Luckily for me, Osaka was not one of those cities with high crime rates or anything. It was 2:46 am. Strangely, today was not very busy. Even at 2am, there would be hundreds passing by through the metro station on any other day, but not today. I took a sip of the brown, rich coffee, its bitter but soothing sensation flooded through my body like a tidal wave. Suddenly, I jolt to life as something visualises on the obnoxious monitor screen. I leaned forwards and watched intently. I could see a middle-aged woman pushing a baby stroller. But something was wrong. She wore something strange, it resembled an outfit dating back to the 1980s typically worn by women in Japan. Something else was wrong too, there was something wrong with her skin, it was abnormally pale, like a sheet of paper. It sent tingles down my spine just from looking at it. She walked by and stopped. She turned her head and stared right at me through the security camera. I shuddered as a sense of fear and mysteriousness washed over me like a flood. Out of nowhere, my computer monitor flickers and turns off, leaving a broken monitor displaying a static screen. To my horror, the lights outside all flicker and leave me terrified in the dark. I get up, grab my flashlight and reach for my phone. I grabbed my phone and dialled the numbers of the maintenance team. My heart skipped a beat as it displayed "No connection, please check your internet". Beads of cold sweat dripped down my forehead as I stood up.

As I made my way to the maintenance shaft, a sense of dread enveloped me like a predator closing in on prey. I suddenly felt a bitter cold around me. But that didn't seem right. It was the middle of summer, July 21st to be exact. If anything, it should be warm down here. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the corner of my eyes. I turned around and saw in the distance the same woman. I called out to her, but to no avail. She just stood there, unmoving. I approached her cautiously, my flashlight pointing at her. I asked her, waved at her and spoke to her, but she did not answer. She stared right through my soul as I stood in front of her. The woman's expression betrayed no emotion as I studied her face. I reached out and attempted to comfort her, but to my surprise, my hand went straight through. An ice-cold sensation coursed through my veins as I retracted my hand in confusion. Horrified, I stared into her pale face as I finally learnt the truth. She was no longer human.

BY CHUYUAN ZHANG

Torn and bleeding, her eyes still wild and desperate, she slid behind the rock and for a moment believed that she was safe. She had to think of something fast, either jump into the waterfall or accept her fate, it was now or never. She could hear his malicious cackling; the sound sent a bone-rattling chill down her spine. This journey had quickly turned into a nightmare. He was getting closer. “I know you are there, Bella”. Suddenly, she felt ropes bind themselves tightly around her arms and legs. She looked down, there was nothing there. Perplexed, she tried to move. They tightened. Dread rose from the pit of her stomach and engulfed her whole. This was it. She was done for, dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. Who was going to take care of little Felenia? Who was going to take care of Grandma? The thought made her cry, silently, and, as it was a little game, he called again: “This is fun!” Anger coursed through her veins. Determination overtook, and with all that she could muster, she jumped. Almost instantly, the invisible ropes tightened even more. It was suffocating, she couldn’t breathe properly. As soon as she hit the water, they seemed to lift, and she felt free again. This ant-like satisfaction did not last long. He had flown over and was studying the waterfall. In her fit of panic, Bella inhaled and choked. She had to breathe. The waterfall came to an end. She swam to the edge of the river, the rushing water masking her sounds, climbed out, and hurried into the undergrowth.

It was pitch black. The trees completely blended into the darkness. It felt like being blind. Bella was losing energy, her breaths came in ragged gasps. Why were the rocks so detailed and curved? Was it another illusion?... Something moved in the shadows in circles marking her as the centre. Terrified, she broke into a run but she was not moving. Then it stopped and she saw his face. Bathed fully in moonlight. His skin was clinging to the bones on his face, his eyes blood red, his hair slick with some kind of everlasting gel. He seemed unnaturally perfect. “Please”, pleaded Bella, “Please, don’t kill me, please”. He smiled, those long fangs gleaming like diamonds. Then without a word, he lunged at her, sinking his teeth deep into her neck. Excruciating pain pounded in her veins, she felt like her flesh was dissolving into acid, leaving her skin bone-cold. The blood was completely drained from her body, and she was left there twitching. Arms and legs gone, leaving stumps of bone and blood. Blood, she was covered in blood. Her eyes had been gouged out leaving bloody sockets instead. Out of her mouth came black froth, bubbling like a potion. He had left holes in her face and body. This was a normal night for the count. Every time, he had tortured them first, playing with his food. It made the humans tastier, he thought, gave them flavour. With a satisfied cackle, he flew away, leaving the scene, the ugly corpse of Bella, the other rotten human corpses that she thought were rocks. His little dining ground. King of all monsters and the sky – Count Dracula.

BY MICHELLE AGYAPONG

The crimson ooze slowly dripped through the open carcass, red velvet liquid soaking into the ancient wooden floorboards and the fancy blue carpets like a sponge. The dust of the floor setting into the blood turning it a dry, dark, devilish burgundy. The shear stench was enough to stop any curiosities from arising. Sparks strung throughout the body and made paralysed limbs twitch. Six years ago, five guests checked into an abandoned hotel on the east side of Hollywood, not knowing what type of vacancy they were filling. Without knowing, they became permanent residents of a place they did not want to stay, in a room they did not want to sleep in. The Horse and Arm hotel hadn't been known for its special quality and beside the glitz and the glamor of classic 1934 Hollywood most of the place did not look particularly desirable. The storms and rainfall had settled, and it left time for the water to dry. An electrical power bank about five hundred metres from the hotel had faced some major flooding and because of this the hotel had no electricity for the night. Torches were handed out, one per party, and complimentary drinks were offered. Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the damp, dark hallways as cobwebs were melted off the walls in lines like dominoes. The wallpaper licked off and the carpets were burnt. The man walking by with a plate of four drinks in his hand, one for him, one for his twenty-two-year-old son, one for his wife and one for his father, spending his last days of life in the hotel after being tragically diagnosed with a fatal lung disease due to a long lifestyle of heavy smoking and nicotine intake. The electricity clustered up into a ball the shape of a scrunched-up line of tin foil and engulfed the man, spilling drinks on the navy-blue carpets and soaking up electricity, the hand of power was enough to split his ribcage and middle to upper chest open, spilling blood onto the floors like coke and mentos. Legend has it his ghost still lies on that floor to this day, taking the form of electricity in the power lines.

BY FELIX HOWARD

Torn and bleeding, her eyes still wild and desperate, she slid behind a rock and for a moment she thought she was safe but then she heard the heavy unwanted sound of his boots crunching the Baltic blades of grass that were caged by his foot.

She thought.

She listened.

She thought.

Then she ran weaving in and out of the crooked and dead trees that loomed over her head. She saw an opening in the trees and darted for it.

She woke up in her bed writhing, gasping for air and scared, but she just shook it off like a bad dream and got ready for school, all day trying to forget. Then it came to her: “That’s it! Oh wait, it can’t be! That looks like my…” A massive BANG came from outside!

BY BRODY WITHERS

Torn and bleeding, her eyes still wild and desperate, she slid behind the rock for a moment, believing that she was safe. She was panting heavily, barely able to breathe. She had been running for what had seemed to be days. Everything hurt, she was aching and the huge gash in her leg was oozing out all kinds of liquids. Suddenly, she heard it. The high-pitched giggle she dreaded. She looked everywhere for an escape from this unseen demon, scampering about the wood like a lost fawn. She heard leaves crunching everywhere she went, trying to run from the deadly titter of the creature. She felt so dizzy, she needed to stop. She lay down, needing to rest. The noise was gone, disappearing without a trace. As she closed her eyes, she saw the silhouette of a figure, standing over her and whispering, ‘I’ve got you now,’ as its sharp fangs glistened in the chalky moonlight. She knew that she wasn’t able to run any longer, unable to fight back. All she could do was let out one final bloodcurdling scream, and that was the last that anyone saw, or heard of her.

BY ANNIE CLARKE

The Waking of the Dead

Waves of inky night clawed at the lands, casting shadows in Their wake and vanquishing shards of light. Shriek! A crow's hoarse cry pierced the sky, singing sonnets Of sorrow to the watchful eye of the blood red moon. Groan. The old trees creaked and moaned as the wind battled relentlessly against them. Crack! Thunder shredded the sky and ripped through the Clouds, a fiery vessel of light that illuminated for No more than one second the haunting horrors that crawled Beneath the compact earth, waiting to be set free from Their dungeon of demise. The house of doom and gloom rested atop its Throne of frost as the glittering snow covered The once sage green grass like a polar quilt; a Beauty beside the beast. The house itself shivered Against winters venomous bite as it seeped in through Every slit on its crumbling walls.

Watching and waiting, the house saw every tomb in Its eerie graveyard. Listening and stalking, the house Heard every patter of feet and whisper of fragile voices. Touching and sensing, the house felt every drop of Blood oozing into its hollow floorboards. Never talking, the house saw every horror in silence. Screams, broken dreams, the house held every nightmare Bestowed upon it until it was bursting at the seams.

For one night only the dead rose from their graves with twisted limbs And glacial breath, murmuring verses of vengeance and Rhymes of revenge. Their steps made no sound as they stumbled Through the snow, searching for souls. Who would be victimized tonight?

BY THEA MOYNIHAN

Gone. That was all that went through my head after she fell. The news marked it as an accident. She was alone, or so they thought. Amelia Penny. The girl who made my life hell. She loved to push me around, ‘play with me’ as she said. I played with her life, pushed her to her limit. I have no idea if she is alive. Do I care? Not particularly. I thought it was over. My one problem in life gone, until I realised. Karma always comes back. The trees rustled with the wind. Fall had always been my favourite. A squirrel runs across the field as I look through the window of my kitchen. I looked at myself in the reflection. And her eyes stared back at me. The same piercing blue eyes that haunted my dreams. It couldn’t be. She was gone. The sound my phone vibrating snapped me out of my trance. My heartbeat still lightning speed from the shock, I answered the phone. My mother’s soothing voice rang through the phone, but there was an edge. “May?”, my mother whispered. “Your sister’s gone.” I froze. The only word I could choke out was “Why?”. Cliff. She fell, same place the girl died. My mother shivered. No. Not there, not after I just saw her in the reflection. My closest friend. Gone. I drove faster than I ever had before. I arrive at the cliff in five minutes. The waves crashed below. I took a shallow breath. The police had cleared, only scraps of yellow tape flapped around. But the only thing that really caught my eye was a black book, pages flapping in the wind. I walked to the edge to pick it up. Apart from one page, that read: “Ghosts are as real as they need to be. I suggest you don’t stand near the edge. Just like I did. In fact, I still am.” Two cold hands grabbed my shoulders. All I heard was “Ready?” Her eyes were the last thing I saw.

BY EMMA LOGAN

Running

I ran as fast as I could, my calves burning like fire. There was a tall guy, about 6’8”, chasing me. He was walking at a medium pace, each footstep crashing down like an earthquake. I was sprinting down a dark, dingy ally. I felt the walls of it layered in graffiti and moss that had never been cleaned off as I tried to steady myself. I should not have come to London. I turned a corner and smacked straight into a big, burly man. He had broad shoulders and a big tattoo across his chest saying ‘DANGER’. This couldn’t be good. I looked straight up into his horrifying face. His teeth were obviously mistreated as six of them were gold. He had a slight Russian accent as he said, ‘Hello beautiful. You’re in rough part of town now’. Then everything went black. I woke up dazed; there was a ringing in my ears. My vision was still a bit blurry. I tried to feel if there was a bump on my head, but my hand wouldn’t move. I glanced down and my skinny wrists were tightly strapped down to a plastic chair. I tried to call out but my voice was scratchy, and it would have been a miracle if anyone heard it who cared. The tall guy span round quickly in a black office char which was shredded from head to toe. He said in a north London accent: “Comfortable? You’re going to be there for a while”.

BY FLORRIE TURNER

A Figure at 8

A tartan swirl, to clans innate. Eternal symbol, the good soul’s fate. Eight… Black pillars, a hideous frame sustain 360 views, a venomous cage maintain Eight… Stir the air the silver threads bear A silent trap, pure prey unaware Eight… Minus six, two pedipalps poised One sharp lunge, a life destroyed Eight… A different twirl, a different dance Paralysing a soul in an eternal trance. Ate.

BY DOROTHY JACKSON

It was dark, it was damp, and the fog filled the air, Not a voice or sound would ever have dared, The cold, brisk breeze flowed through her hair, Then a shadow appeared, be cautious, beware. It glided chest forward, arms heled back, The hairs stood up on her shivering neck? Its transparent glair, and crimpling eyes, Had fixed on this mortal for dinner time.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry, Running past book shops bought by Larry, Her nose was runny, her fists shut still, And in came the monster ready to kill.

Its teeth were yellow, its eyes were black, Her heart was having a panic attack, Her eyes closed shut she let out a scream, And the monster retreated into the breeze.

Up came the sun and the woman rose, Her whole body shaking with a bloody noise, She had done it, won it, beaten the monster, Time to go home to a family cluster.

BY DELILAH EDEN

He was running. As fast as he could. And he had only one thought. To survive. He was running from… He didn’t actually know who - or maybe more correctly to say, what – he was running away from. It was a kind of creature which he could actually see. It was a feeling that something was chasing him, and that was why he was running. He was running until he saw the light. His desire was just to find a house with people, at least a hut. Just to hide. But he found something way bigger. It was a huge, dark castle made of stone with tall towers going up to the dark sky and big, half-broken statues, columns, and deep in the garden – if you can call it a garden, lots of wild bushes, black roses and trees – there was a large well made of white stones; you could look into it and you wouldn’t see the bottom. It was so deep that if someone fell no-one would even really notice they had disappeared, and when they noticed no-one would be able to find or see the person who fell down. He could see lights in the castle’s windows and ran there as fast as he could. When he reached it, he tried to open the door but it was locked! He stayed there for a few minutes and then realised that he had the same feeling as when he was running away from a creature. He had no choice but to crash into a closed window to run away from a creature which was chasing him…

BY VASYA NESKOROMNYI