Adult Halloween Writing Contest Entries


Skeletons in the closet – By Jessica Turner, Age 18


“I wonder if it’s true!” Billy said to his friend at the Halloween lock-in.

“I dunno….but I sure hope so!” his friend, James, replied.

“Let’s go find out!” Billy enthused.

“Yeah!” James agreed, and the two friends snuck away from the sleeping bodies in the gymnasium, right before a fine sleeping mist was exhausted into the area.

You see, legend had it that once upon a time-about 100 years ago- in the ancient church building, they had done exorcisms. The priest at the time, Father Mac, had done so many that he’d lost count. The entire town of Marifield had a curse on it, and eventually everyone had been possessed at one time or another. Most of them lived to tell the tale, because they gave up their demons fairly easily. There was one exception. His name was Robert, and he was Father Mac’s last exorcism, and Father Mac was Robert’s first real victim.

Marifield was a small farming town. It was rife with pigs, cows, sheep, horses, and household pets, of course. One day, Miss Mae’s cat, Fluffy, went missing. The next week Mr. Fleetwood’s piglet was gone. The week after that, little Frankie’s colt disappeared. The town knew that one of their own was once again holding a demon in their body, but they didn’t know who. They sat up every night in their fields and barns for the next two weeks. Then one night they finally caught Robert red-handed. He was in the process of ripping out a newborn colt’s throat with his unnaturally filed-sharp teeth. The town’s men roped his arms and legs together and drug him to the church with an old potato sack over his head.

“Hey Mac,” the mayor grunted as he hefted Robert into The Chair in the closet, “be careful with this one, alright? He’s pretty dangerous.”

“So I have heard. Thank you, men.” The good father said as the men used the old leather restraints and strapped Robert to The Chair so that he couldn’t escape until he was cured.

Father Mac went about the exorcism. But when he was getting right to the meat of it, the demon inside Robert gave the young man enough strength to rip through the restraints like paper, and he landed on Father Mac and ripped out his throat to silence his screams, then ate the rest of his body. When he was finished, he made a pile of all of the bones, sat comfortably in his chair, and waited for his next victims. With the possession, he was still very much alive.

That night, there were two sets of picked-clean bones added to the tower that was the demon’s chair.


Mansion 42 ~ By Macy Cobb, Age 16


They say that ghosts stay with their possessions until eternity…and they are right. Once at a time there was a curious young boy. Rodger was his name and he loved exploring. On a Friday night he went into an abandoned mansion and never returned home. Rumor has it that his ghost is the only living soul in the house….until Timmy.

Timmy was exactly like Rodger, but more younger. He was new in the neighborhood and had no idea of the terrible, horrendous stories about Mansion 42. On a walk, Timmy came across this haunting looking house and his instinct came on and told him go inside. Once he was in, Timmy was gasping. He was amazed by the beauty of the insides and wanted to know what else was in it. He grazed around admiring the dusted antiques, the cob-webbed framed pictures.

Suddenly, an old lamp crashed to the ground, shattering to pieces. A drawer came out flying towards Timmys head. As he went to duck, a broken down chair started to slowly make its way to Timmy, swooping him into the chair. The tassels of the curtain unstrung and tied Timmy to the chair.

 “Is anyone there”, Timmy shouted. His voice was tinted with a hint of frantic. The walls began to show a message. ‘Get out of my house now, or die’. Timmy had no idea what to do so he left as quickly as the tassels were leased. Running as hard as he could, he ran out of the house. Huffing and puffing as he passed the rusted sharp gates. Soon he was running so fast that he tripped. His eyes were twitching and he began to view the sky differently. It wasn’t pretty and amazing. The sky began to change to a dark, gloomy gray, and the trees began to die down. His eyes were shutting shut and opening up. The last thing Timmy saw was a black figure, crawling towards him. “You were in my house, and now you will stay with me forever little Timmy,”. That is the last time anyone saw Timmy. Ever…again.


 The Wolves of Antrim ~ By George W. Grimes. Age 57


One Halloween day, Davin and Donegal went on another of their numerous adventures through the woods.  Having exhausted every square inch within miles of their home, the two set out to go a little further on this day.  It was a gorgeous sunny day, with the brisk northerly wind biting at his cheeks.  Davin was sitting on a huge rock that overlooked the rocky grasslands that lay just beyond the far edge of the forest.  They had never been that far before, as they probably would have run out of daylight, and Davin’s father had warned him that the woods was no place for a boy and his dog at night.

From his vantage point, Davin noticed a faint wisp of smoke coming from a small cottage at the edge of the forest.  Davin was sure he could make it to the cottage, and still have time to get back before dark.  His curiosity got the better of him, and off they ran, down the path to where they had never before been. 

The path seemed to go on forever, and Davin decided to head back as the sun had already begun to wane, and darkness came early and fast this time of year in Ulster.  As the sun seemed to plummet from the sky, the path grew darker and darker.  Davin stopped for a moment, as the path was suddenly no longer familiar.  Donegal began to whimper, as the two came to the realization that they were lost.

It was almost dark now, and the wind had begun to rustle through the trees with an eeriness that sent chills down the young boy’s spine.  Wandering in near darkness now, Davin was sure that they were doomed to the horrors that his father spoke of that happened to little boys in the woods at night.  Just as his fear seemed unbearable, it happened.  A faint howl.  The unmistakable howl of a wolf!  Just one at first, rising and falling above the rustling of the trees.  Then the piercing howls of an entire pack of wolves getting closer and closer, until they seemed only dozens of meters away!    

Davin turned to run in the darkness, and just as he did he stumbled over what appeared to be a short stone fence.  Looking up, he couldn’t believe his eyes.  In the full moonlight of the clearing, he spotted the silhouette of the cottage.  In the darkness, he had not even noticed it before.  Donegal raced him to the front door as they both burst through, greatly relieved that it was unlocked!  Davin turned, ready to explain himself, when his mother said “Davin, wake up dear.  You’ll be late for the Halloween party.”


 Untitled By Emily Eastman, Age 17


It had been dark for a long time, now. Why was it so dark? The cold of the night seemed to seep into every pore of the little boy sitting on the ground. Why was it so cold? He clutched the teddy bear that had been tattered and ripped in his arms. Can you save me, Teddy? It was swift, but it was effective. Blackness was all the boy saw then. It made the older male smile. Finally have you, don’t I boy? The wrench in his palms tingled and dripped with the red liquid that now covered the end. It was a nice feeling, the kill. Too bad it only lasted a short while. In a bit he’d have to find another to drain the life out of with his hands… The grin faded with the feeling; leaving him sooner than it had ever before. He growled. This is the last time I choose to kill just one child. The cursed tool was also the last he’d use. Wasn’t as effective as a knife, he realized. Leaving the dark cellar, he smiled again.

“I love my job.”

The blue letters of the store lit behind him as it finally opened after a long and cold night. He smiled as he entered his car and left the parking lot of Wal-Mart on 6th street.

The Monster I Saw ~ By Bill Kenley, Age 40


It was one of those dry, cool, bright blue days when I saw the monster.  That made it particularly terrifying, actually.  It was about two in the afternoon, a brilliant October day, and I was skipping some obligation because it seemed a shame to have to do anything but be alive when I saw the monster climbing the neighbor’s tree hand over hand like some large, powerful monkey.  But it wasn’t a monkey.  It was a monster.  It could have been nothing else. 

In this age of science, how does one know one is looking at a monster and not some animal one is simply unfamiliar with?  Well, its skin was inside out.  Either that or that it had been burned so badly that it was shiny and red – its scorched skin translucent so the veins showed through.  Is appearance what makes a monster a monster?  How about the cat, my neighbor’s cat, in it’s mouth?  How about what it said to me?  It said, “I can get in your house” in a muffled throaty kind of way.  I think its voice had a lot to do with the cat in its mouth.  But anyway, don’t try to tell me it wasn’t a monster.

Even if was a human being, it was now no longer a human in that most basic way that makes a human a human.  It wasn’t wearing clothes.  The fact that it was eating my neighbor’s cat, a somewhat emotionally distant cat named Mr. Tibbs, but my neighbor’s beloved pet, nonetheless, and the fact that it said it could get in my house, made it, at the very least, a metaphorical monster.  Even if it was actually a naked, badly burnt man.  

I didn’t tell anyone about it afterwards.  I was afraid nobody would believe me.  Or worse, that I was going nuts.  In which case, it would still be a monster, albeit of my own creation. 

When I saw the monster and saw it climb up my neighbor’s tree and eat Mr. Tibbs, I kept thinking I ought to do something.  Run and get a phone perhaps.  However, I’m by nature a sympathetic person.  After the initial shock, life for the monster seemed hard…  Eating cats in the tops of trees and all…  I felt I couldn’t call the cops on the monster.  And of course, there was the threat.  And then there was the possibility that it wasn’t truly there at all.

When it began to shamble down from the tree, limbs shaking, leaves falling, cat gone, I walked quickly into my house and shut and locked the door.

I haven’t seen it since.   

Untitled ~ By Athena Brosius, Age 17


Sitting in a cave deep within the redwood forest of Northern California, lived alone Nephillim. The cave had a dank smell, a mixture of the moist walls and the rich woodland trees. He walked into the moonlight in his ratty, tattered clothes, and smelled the incoming group of youth on the slightly salty air. Pacing in his cave, and knowing that the large group was all female, he envisioned what he would do to them. How much they would tremble in fear as he raped their youthful bodies. A smirk appeared on his angelic features.

The Nephillim caught onto Britney’s scent and dove into the forest after her. Soon enough, he came up behind her. He jumped her, pushing her to the ground and tearing at her clothes, removing them without even rustling any leaves around them. She screamed, terrified, as he raped her as he had never raped before.

Back in the clearing, the remainder of the girls heard the scream and almost shrugged it off.

Hours later, out from the bushes came crawling a nearly-naked Britney. Most of her clothes torn to shreds by what looked like monster claws. She saw the fire, made a low moan, and toppled forward into the hard-packed earth not two feet from Jennifer and Lacy’s blanket.

The girls had no time to escape. The Nephillim pounced and stopped them dead in their tracks. “Mmm.” he moaned while he eyed each of the girls individually. His eyes stopped on Lacey. He snatched her. After traveling a distance, he stopped and threw the helpless female to the ground. In the blink of an eye, he ripped her shirt and shorts right down the middle. She screamed bloody murder as he forced his way into her. When he was finished, he left her body sprawled on the ground. Clothes in shreds, leaves in her hair, and fresh bruises covering her pale body, he went back to the others for his next victim.

That’s when he saw her. All alone…she was next. He was down on her faster than light. He had his way with her and outrageously abused her. She gasped for air as his hand clamped tighter around her neck. She knew this was the end. She drew her last breath and her eyelids started to droop. She saw the beast give her an awful grin of satisfaction, and say, “You were delightful.” And that was the last thing she ever heard. But it would never end, he was on an endless prowl for more prey.


 Untitled ~ By Trevor James Sorensen, Age 18


Roy Harrison just set up his sleeping bag in the upper bunk inside his cabin. Roy was one of  19 campers at the first ever Soy Allergies Awareness camp. This camp was set up by former First Lady Laura Bush, who herself had a deadly soy allergy. The purpose of the camp was to learn about alternative food products to get the needed nutrients that soy provides. Roy’s bunkmate, Gunnar Jones, a small nerdy black kid with thick glasses and asthma, had just told Roy that soy allergies were the ninth most common allergy in the continental United States.  Roy obviously knew that. Roy asked if Gunnar was ready to go to the evening camp fire.

“Nah im really tired from the drive in I think I’m just gonna hit the hay” Ol’ Jonsey replied.

“Alright dude I’ll see you in the morning” Roy said as he walked out the cabin door.

At the campfire some of the campers enjoyed some delicious soy-free smores. After the gang of campers had heard their share of lame jokes and stupid horror stories they decided to go back to the cabins to go to sleep. 

The next morning Gunnar took his morning puff of his inhaler and immediately started choking. His throat was closing up as the rest of the boys could only watch as Gunnar died in front of their eyes. He only had time to point to his inhaler before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

They took his body and inhaler to the nurses station and asked her what had happened. She examined his allergic reaction and then noticed a little block of tofu in the inhaler. She breathed a sigh of disappointment and muttered a single word.


Roy and the rest of the campers were very confused. “Excuse me what was that?” Roy asked.

“This was the work of Tofu-Kozu. He is a little Japanese spirit boy that wonders the Earth with a block of tofu on his back. He wants to harm everybody is allergic to soy or never eats tofu.” the nurse explained.

She made the decision to send the rest of the kid’s home.

Roy never forgot his day and a half at the Soy Allergies camp and would walk in fear for the rest of his life in fear of Tofu-Kozu.


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