thank you for the horror
Arthur Weasley taught us that curiosity is a good thing.
The Winners, A Abreu and M Lansley
Thank you for the Horror!
The horror writing competition has finally concluded, so we would like to take this chance to congratulate our winners and to the creative people who participated. Believe us when we say, we had quite a scare reading the stories you have written. It was good to see that many students have stepped outside of their comfort zones to compose something gruesome! It is also nice to find out that horror is a well-liked genre to many.
It was a tight race for the best horror story since you all were excellent writers. But alas, there can only be three winners. Nevertheless, to the library you are all winners! Let us once again say thank you everyone for participating, and that we thoroughly enjoyed everyone's tales of horror.
5 November 2018
This is the winning horror story entry composed by M Lansley of Year 10...
The Something In The School
There is something in the school, and you are stuck in the bathroom. You know this, because the intercom had gone off a few minutes ago, mentioning a school-wide lockdown and feral dogs, by the science labs.
Quietly, you exit the bathroom, expecting to see the coast clear--the dogs were meant to be on the other side of the school. Not across from you, amidst the bright blue lockers beneath the chapel block.
There are two dogs. You lock eyes with the one on the right; it is large and vicious-looking--they both are. Your mind blanks, but you recognise the feeling of regret without having to really think about it.
You think that maybe you can slowly back away, but one of the dogs start barking, and then the other, and your mind shatters in a moment of hot, undiluted fear. You bolt--Room 10 is not far from the Library bathroom; if you’re lucky, you just might be able to make it back.
The dogs sprint after you, and it's not like you didn't know they would, but you didn't think they’d be so quick.
Then: you are in front of room 10, and the dogs are not immediately on you, so you think that just maybe you can make it. You see your classmates inside, shocked and scared. You shake the doorknob, but it’s locked.
“Open it!” you scream, feeling your heart seize and every nerve on fire. “Open it! Open, open, open, open it!” Your voice rises with each repetition, and you pound hard on the door. You think your legs are going to give out, but they can’t. You can’t die out here--they are going to open the door.
But...you aren’t so sure. You can hear the dogs now, meaty flesh smacking on the ground with every step.
Inside, you see your teacher, scrambling to the door, fumbling with keys. You almost feel relieved--your teacher might be at the door, but the dogs are at your feet.
They jump at you, biting and scratching. You fall, finally, but you are crying and screaming and, lord, you want to die already and it hurts so much. And your classmates are yelling, too--your writhing legs can be seen through the door’s glass pane, and you don’t doubt for a second that they can hear your screams.
As the dogs continue their assault, you feel your consciousness beginning to drift--you’ve lost a lot of blood, you guess. At some point--maybe when you feel sharp canines pierce through the soft flesh of your breast, you give up on movement.
And then: the attacks stop coming, but it doesn't even matter because it’s too late--everything is swirling and darkening in your vision, and sounds echo in your head.
So, when dark clouds the rest of your vision and only faint whispers ring in your head, you fall into it, scared but accepting. The dogs had gotten you that day, but they would not ever again.