No Escape

No Escape

A Story by ca.shorty
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Sorry the other one got deleted.

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TAYLOR


“Creek”
I looked around the room from my bed. Every night at 12:00 a.m. I heard the same noice. This time I heard someone call my name. “Taylor.” Said the voice. I scooted to the middle of my bed and didn’t dare look on the floor.

Ever since Katlyn was murdered next to me in the middle of the night i’ve been cautious about who i’m friends with. The other day I met a young man named Dameon. He was very polite but kinda creepy. He had the smile of an old man but the teeth of a devil. I didn’t want to trust him for I thought he killed Katlyn!

“Taylor.” Went the voice again. I flinched and stared at the end of my bed. ‘Don’t move’ I told myself it’s just my imagination it’s not real. I was awake for hours until my door slammed shut and someone on the outside locked it. I turned on the light and unlocked the door. A figure looked at me and sprinted down the stairs. I chased after it and it ran out my door with no trace of where it went.

As I stood outside of my door I saw a tall man under the light post. I squinted my eyes to see if I could recognize him, but I didn’t. The light flickered off then on and the figure was gone. I rubbed my eyes and walked inside. I closed my door and locked it along with my windows and garage. I ran upstairs and heard the downstair door rattle.

Someone was trying to get into my house again. The door became quiet and I heard someone trying to open my garage door. I stood still at the top of my stairs and heard nothing. It was silent for about two hours until I heard my window smash open. I went wide eyed and stood still then I saw him. A figure with red eyes staring straight at me with and axe in his left hand. I didn’t move a muscle for I knew he would come after me.

While I wait with anticipation he stared at me. I could tell he was human because he breathed the same and looked the same. Except for one small feature, his ears were pointy and the were not on the side but and the top of his head. He scared the s**t out of me and wanted to kill me. I don’t know why but I waited for hours and all he did was stare at me with his beady death eyes.



FIGURE


“Creak”

The man sat up and looked around. I sneakily crouched to the floor and didn’t move. I could no longer see the man or Taylor as I should say. He moved to the middle of his bed and sat there. I wanted to strike at any moment because tonight was his night to disappear like my father did to Katlyn. It was 12:00 when I decided to call his name to warn him. “Taylor” I said whispering. I could hear the sound of his heartbeat beating rapidly.

I smiled and thought, ‘This is the last time he’ll hear his name.’ He shuffled in his bed and started to calm down. I heard him whispering to himself that it was just his imagination and there was no one there. He was wrong and I was going to prove he was wrong. “Taylor” I said again. He slowly sinked into his bed like a death person being consumed by the dirt and bugs.

I took my hand and went to go grab my axe. ‘Oh no’ I said. I left my axe at home. I was cleaning it after my bloody mess yesterday. I didn’t want to alert him so I crawled to the door. It was wide open so I crawled through it. My foot, however, got caught so on my way out it slammed the door. I heard Taylor get up and run to the door, he swung the door open and I sprinted down the stairs.

I jumped off of the stairs and slammed his front door shut. I ran down the street and stopped at the lamp post to catch my breath. I didn’t move one bit, even when Taylor looked at me. The lamp post went out and I sprinted away to my house where I waited until Taylor went back to bed.

2 hours later I walked up to his house and tried to open the door. It was locked so I went to the garage door but that was also locked. I decided to go to one of his windows and break it open with my axe. I walked to the living room and looked up the stairs. I saw Taylor looking at me and not moving a muscle. I stood there with my axe thinking at any moment he could call the cops. I watched him with my read beady killer eyes. This is the last face he’ll every see, the face of me, Dameon the demon.

© 2019 ca.shorty


Author's Note

ca.shorty
Anyone who comment on the last one I really appreciated your comments. They might not be written down but they still in my brain. They mean a lot. That’s a shout out to Sarah and Dawn. Thx guys!

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• “Creek”
I looked around the room from my bed. Every night at 12:00 a.m. I heard the same noice. This time I heard someone call my name. “Taylor.” Said the voice. I scooted to the middle of my bed and didn’t dare look on the floor.

This is you, talking to the reader about things for which they have no context. You know what's going on, but when you say the character "didn’t dare look on the floor," unless the reader knows why, it's meaningless. And I don't know about you, if someone called my name in my bedroom, I'd damn well look around. And be reaching for something to use as a weapon. That he doesn't says he's not a real person, just an actor, blindly following your script.

It may be that this unknown person has valid reason for what was done, but since the reader doesn't know even the gender of the one speaking, the line is meaningless, as read.

Another problem is that since you're TELLING this story, not making the reader live it as the protagonist, you assign them actions that they will do, even if it makes no sense. Were you in that situation, you might get away from the edge of the bed, but wouldn't you more likely get against the headboard so you could see anything that might try to join you? I sure would. But because you're telling the reader ABOUT the story, rather then making them live it, you don't think about what someone real might do. And because you don't, your people are smart when you need smart, and this dumb when that suits you. How can that seem real to a reader?

• Ever since Katlyn was murdered next to me in the middle of the night i’ve been cautious about who i’m friends with.

Okay, who's Katlyn? You talk as though that's meaningful to a reader who doesn't even know what planet they're on. And how someone we don't know being murdered relates to being cautious about making friends may be meaningful to the speaker, but the reader has no context. And it does no good to explain later, because you can't retroactively remove confusion. Better to make sense as it's read. But you already know the story, and so, see no need to explain what you already know, and so forget to make it clear to the reader—which is one important reason for writing from the protagonist's viewpoint, rather then telling the story as a memory.

I know you're using first person to try to make it more immediate, but what you're using is not what a publisher thinks of a first person. You're still telling the story from the viewpoint of an external narrator. And changing "He," and "his" to "I" and "my" changes that not at all. Telling is telling, and will always read like a report.

• The other day I met a young man named Dameon. He was very polite but kinda creepy. He had the smile of an old man but the teeth of a devil.

What? What kind of teeth does a "devil" have? You may have intent for what it means but your reader, not having met one, doesn't have a clue. And why would this unknown person believe that this unknown "devil" killed the woman we know nothing about? Dis he recognize him? If so, why didn't he call the cops? There's a lot of this story that should be on the page to make the words meaningful to a reader that remain in your head.

And how in the hell can someone be murdered in the same bed you're in and you not at least get a look at them?

Here's the deal. There's a LOT more to writing fiction than coming up with a plot and then writing a script for it. And though no one tells us, during our school days they taught us literally nothing about how to create a plot, break it into scenes, and make it seem real to the reader. How much time did your teachers spend on handling dialog tags, and what a scene is on the page?

We leave school thinking we know how to write, but in reality, all we learned is how to write nonfiction—reports and essays. Writing fiction is a profession, one as hard to master as any other. And in order to write stories that will have meaning to a reader; in order to write stories that will entertain the reader; in order to write stories that a reader will enjoy, you MUST do a bit of digging into the tricks of the trade.

A great resource is the local library's fiction-writing section. So try it. You'll be surprised at how often you find yourself saying, "Why didn't I think of that?

And while you're there, look for the names, Dwight Swain, Jack Bickham, or Debra Dixon on the cover.

Posted 5 Years Ago


ca.shorty

5 Years Ago

That was a lot. Anyways I was trying to go for a more mysterious type of story. There is a lot of th.. read more

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Added on February 16, 2019
Last Updated on February 16, 2019
Tags: Horror

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ca.shorty
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