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    My horror story. warning, you might sh*t yourself
    Spoiler:
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    The Flood
    Let me first get this straight. My name is John Sener and I am pretty much 15. I am a thug. I am going to explain how. Basically me and my mates were walking home, when we see a KFC. We go in, eat then leave. We mug a guy loitering outside. He runs away. We follow him. He breaks into a run, away from us. Left, right, right, left. Until The House. He decides to take his chances. He runs in. This is what we do. We mug people, chase them here and they go in. Never to be seen again. ‘What can we do now’, I say. ‘We mug someone else’ Robbie says. ‘why can’t we do something different, this is pointless’, I say. They bring out their butterfly knives. ‘Why don’t you go in, see what it’s like, bring back a souvenir while you’re there’, Peter jokes. I have no choice. It’s the only way I live. They mean business. ‘See how hard you are now’ Will says.This house is like no house in Hampshire. Black walls, Black roof, black fence, black grass. Everything is black. I feel nervous and frightened. I hear crows and creaks. As I walk forward, the door creaks open. I walk forward. As I glance round, I see my friends, still there, making sure I go in. The door slams shut, with a BANG. I see stairs, a kitchen, a living room. In the background, I hear a gramophone playing, the same sort of music you hear in horror movies. The only difference is that this is real life. Where should I go, I think to myself. I felt empty, hungry. I needed food. I went into the kitchen and looked inside. I screamed, then quickly shut the fridge. Body parts. I suddenly didn’t feel hungry.I decided to go upstairs, to see if there were any beds. I was tired. The stairs creaked, like my grandma. Cracks covered the walls and the banister. I saw a cracked, mouldy window. Bloody hand prints covered it. They were smaller than my hand prints, obviously younger than me. Blood stained toys littered the floor. Cracks in the floor made it unstable. It could possibly collapse and I would fall through. I saw a chest of drawer in the corner. I felt curious. The chest would of looked nice if this was a normal house, but it wasn’t. It had an oval mirror, but it was cracked and bloodied. It looked stylish, and had two drawers.I slowly opened the top drawer, expecting hair brushes and jewellery. But the handle snapped of. Luckily I had opened it enough to pull it open. My mouth dropped. In the top drawer instruments, many you might find in a dentist. Drills, scalpels, blades, saws, needles, and a weird contraption, possibly for torture. I shut the drawer. I opened the bottom drawer. This shocked me more than anything I had seen in my life… Babies. Their eyes were glazed over, and their teeth were sharp. Their hearts were missing. I decided to leave the house. My mates were probably waiting for me. It had been about 2 hours. It was nearly midnight. I turned round and started to leave…But someone blocked my exit. A fat old man, wearing a white apron, splattered with blood blocked me. He held a butcher knife. ‘COME WITH ME LITTLE BOY!’ he shouted. I obeyed. Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t going to be nice. He lead me to the bedroom. This was the only normal room in the house (if there was no blood, which there was a lot of). There was hardly any blood. There were about 20 beds, and they were actually white, and they looked pretty normal, apart from the shackles. About 10 beds were occupied, by children, their stomachs sliced open, their guts on the floor. I couldn’t take it any longer. I ran. Fatty chased me, meat cleaver in his hand. He was pretty fast, and he would get me soon. Then I remembered something. While I was in the toy room, I saw a jar of marbles. I love marbles. So I ‘borrowed’ some. I pulled them out my pocket, and chucked them behind me. Fatty slipped on them, and his cleaver smashed into his head, shattering his skull. Brains dribbled down his face. Dead. I saw him rolling downstairs, smashing into the door, ripping it off its hinges. I was free.I saw my friends, standing there, facing away from the house. It was dark. They turned round. And I screamed. Fatty stood behind me, but the meat cleaver was out of his head. Half of his face was missing, and he had Sellotaped his brain back into his head. Adrenaline powered me, and I kicked him in the balls. It only startled him. And they fell off. ‘Good’ I thought, ‘no more mini versions of you’ as I remembered the glass-eyed babies. I wrenched the meat cleaver out of his hand, the hand coming off with it. I hacked of fatty’s head. Then I noticed my friends. They had come closer. I noticed their faces, half of it missing. They circled me like hungry sharks. They pulled out blood-covered knives. They started stabbing me. ‘Goodbye, world’, I thought to myself. I woke up, my bed damp with sweat. My hands were shackled. I was a prisoner, in my own house. Taken shortly after The Flood. Zombies ruled the land. Humans became from hunters to hunted. Nearly everyone was dead. But not me.
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    (Original post by callum_20011)
    My horror story. warning, you might sh*t yourself
    Spoiler:
    Show
    The Flood
    Let me first get this straight. My name is John Sener and I am pretty much 15. I am a thug. I am going to explain how. Basically me and my mates were walking home, when we see a KFC. We go in, eat then leave. We mug a guy loitering outside. He runs away. We follow him. He breaks into a run, away from us. Left, right, right, left. Until The House. He decides to take his chances. He runs in. This is what we do. We mug people, chase them here and they go in. Never to be seen again. ‘What can we do now’, I say. ‘We mug someone else’ Robbie says. ‘why can’t we do something different, this is pointless’, I say. They bring out their butterfly knives. ‘Why don’t you go in, see what it’s like, bring back a souvenir while you’re there’, Peter jokes. I have no choice. It’s the only way I live. They mean business. ‘See how hard you are now’ Will says.This house is like no house in Hampshire. Black walls, Black roof, black fence, black grass. Everything is black. I feel nervous and frightened. I hear crows and creaks. As I walk forward, the door creaks open. I walk forward. As I glance round, I see my friends, still there, making sure I go in. The door slams shut, with a BANG. I see stairs, a kitchen, a living room. In the background, I hear a gramophone playing, the same sort of music you hear in horror movies. The only difference is that this is real life. Where should I go, I think to myself. I felt empty, hungry. I needed food. I went into the kitchen and looked inside. I screamed, then quickly shut the fridge. Body parts. I suddenly didn’t feel hungry.I decided to go upstairs, to see if there were any beds. I was tired. The stairs creaked, like my grandma. Cracks covered the walls and the banister. I saw a cracked, mouldy window. Bloody hand prints covered it. They were smaller than my hand prints, obviously younger than me. Blood stained toys littered the floor. Cracks in the floor made it unstable. It could possibly collapse and I would fall through. I saw a chest of drawer in the corner. I felt curious. The chest would of looked nice if this was a normal house, but it wasn’t. It had an oval mirror, but it was cracked and bloodied. It looked stylish, and had two drawers.I slowly opened the top drawer, expecting hair brushes and jewellery. But the handle snapped of. Luckily I had opened it enough to pull it open. My mouth dropped. In the top drawer instruments, many you might find in a dentist. Drills, scalpels, blades, saws, needles, and a weird contraption, possibly for torture. I shut the drawer. I opened the bottom drawer. This shocked me more than anything I had seen in my life… Babies. Their eyes were glazed over, and their teeth were sharp. Their hearts were missing. I decided to leave the house. My mates were probably waiting for me. It had been about 2 hours. It was nearly midnight. I turned round and started to leave…But someone blocked my exit. A fat old man, wearing a white apron, splattered with blood blocked me. He held a butcher knife. ‘COME WITH ME LITTLE BOY!’ he shouted. I obeyed. Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t going to be nice. He lead me to the bedroom. This was the only normal room in the house (if there was no blood, which there was a lot of). There was hardly any blood. There were about 20 beds, and they were actually white, and they looked pretty normal, apart from the shackles. About 10 beds were occupied, by children, their stomachs sliced open, their guts on the floor. I couldn’t take it any longer. I ran. Fatty chased me, meat cleaver in his hand. He was pretty fast, and he would get me soon. Then I remembered something. While I was in the toy room, I saw a jar of marbles. I love marbles. So I ‘borrowed’ some. I pulled them out my pocket, and chucked them behind me. Fatty slipped on them, and his cleaver smashed into his head, shattering his skull. Brains dribbled down his face. Dead. I saw him rolling downstairs, smashing into the door, ripping it off its hinges. I was free.I saw my friends, standing there, facing away from the house. It was dark. They turned round. And I screamed. Fatty stood behind me, but the meat cleaver was out of his head. Half of his face was missing, and he had Sellotaped his brain back into his head. Adrenaline powered me, and I kicked him in the balls. It only startled him. And they fell off. ‘Good’ I thought, ‘no more mini versions of you’ as I remembered the glass-eyed babies. I wrenched the meat cleaver out of his hand, the hand coming off with it. I hacked of fatty’s head. Then I noticed my friends. They had come closer. I noticed their faces, half of it missing. They circled me like hungry sharks. They pulled out blood-covered knives. They started stabbing me. ‘Goodbye, world’, I thought to myself. I woke up, my bed damp with sweat. My hands were shackled. I was a prisoner, in my own house. Taken shortly after The Flood. Zombies ruled the land. Humans became from hunters to hunted. Nearly everyone was dead. But not me.
    That's really good

    Shame nobody else has commented on your thread but I often find that's the problem with TSR, there are far too many different sub forums and not enough people focusing on every thread.
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    :congrats:Very Nice!
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    Before I read, can you paragraph it??
    • Thread Starter
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    (Original post by champ_mc99)
    Before I read, can you paragraph it??
    i did but tsr unparagraphed it
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    (Original post by Ambitious1999)
    That's really good

    Shame nobody else has commented on your thread but I often find that's the problem with TSR, there are far too many different sub forums and not enough people focusing on every thread.
    thanks
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    (Original post by Eternalflames)
    :congrats:Very Nice!
    thanks
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    TL;DR

    Summary: He's a chav.
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    *cringes*
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    (Original post by Hamoody)
    *cringes*
    bit rude
    just a bit
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    (Original post by Age Quod Agis)
    TL;DR

    Summary: He's a chav.
    me (the author) or the main character
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    (Original post by homeland.lsw)
    bit rude
    just a bit
    ikr
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    (Original post by callum_20011)
    My horror story. warning, you might sh*t yourself
    Spoiler:
    Show
    The Flood
    Let me first get this straight. My name is John Sener and I am pretty much 15. I am a thug. I am going to explain how. Basically me and my mates were walking home, when we see a KFC. We go in, eat then leave. We mug a guy loitering outside. He runs away. We follow him. He breaks into a run, away from us. Left, right, right, left. Until The House. He decides to take his chances. He runs in. This is what we do. We mug people, chase them here and they go in. Never to be seen again. ‘What can we do now’, I say. ‘We mug someone else’ Robbie says. ‘why can’t we do something different, this is pointless’, I say. They bring out their butterfly knives. ‘Why don’t you go in, see what it’s like, bring back a souvenir while you’re there’, Peter jokes. I have no choice. It’s the only way I live. They mean business. ‘See how hard you are now’ Will says.This house is like no house in Hampshire. Black walls, Black roof, black fence, black grass. Everything is black. I feel nervous and frightened. I hear crows and creaks. As I walk forward, the door creaks open. I walk forward. As I glance round, I see my friends, still there, making sure I go in. The door slams shut, with a BANG. I see stairs, a kitchen, a living room. In the background, I hear a gramophone playing, the same sort of music you hear in horror movies. The only difference is that this is real life. Where should I go, I think to myself. I felt empty, hungry. I needed food. I went into the kitchen and looked inside. I screamed, then quickly shut the fridge. Body parts. I suddenly didn’t feel hungry.I decided to go upstairs, to see if there were any beds. I was tired. The stairs creaked, like my grandma. Cracks covered the walls and the banister. I saw a cracked, mouldy window. Bloody hand prints covered it. They were smaller than my hand prints, obviously younger than me. Blood stained toys littered the floor. Cracks in the floor made it unstable. It could possibly collapse and I would fall through. I saw a chest of drawer in the corner. I felt curious. The chest would of looked nice if this was a normal house, but it wasn’t. It had an oval mirror, but it was cracked and bloodied. It looked stylish, and had two drawers.I slowly opened the top drawer, expecting hair brushes and jewellery. But the handle snapped of. Luckily I had opened it enough to pull it open. My mouth dropped. In the top drawer instruments, many you might find in a dentist. Drills, scalpels, blades, saws, needles, and a weird contraption, possibly for torture. I shut the drawer. I opened the bottom drawer. This shocked me more than anything I had seen in my life… Babies. Their eyes were glazed over, and their teeth were sharp. Their hearts were missing. I decided to leave the house. My mates were probably waiting for me. It had been about 2 hours. It was nearly midnight. I turned round and started to leave…But someone blocked my exit. A fat old man, wearing a white apron, splattered with blood blocked me. He held a butcher knife. ‘COME WITH ME LITTLE BOY!’ he shouted. I obeyed. Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t going to be nice. He lead me to the bedroom. This was the only normal room in the house (if there was no blood, which there was a lot of). There was hardly any blood. There were about 20 beds, and they were actually white, and they looked pretty normal, apart from the shackles. About 10 beds were occupied, by children, their stomachs sliced open, their guts on the floor. I couldn’t take it any longer. I ran. Fatty chased me, meat cleaver in his hand. He was pretty fast, and he would get me soon. Then I remembered something. While I was in the toy room, I saw a jar of marbles. I love marbles. So I ‘borrowed’ some. I pulled them out my pocket, and chucked them behind me. Fatty slipped on them, and his cleaver smashed into his head, shattering his skull. Brains dribbled down his face. Dead. I saw him rolling downstairs, smashing into the door, ripping it off its hinges. I was free.I saw my friends, standing there, facing away from the house. It was dark. They turned round. And I screamed. Fatty stood behind me, but the meat cleaver was out of his head. Half of his face was missing, and he had Sellotaped his brain back into his head. Adrenaline powered me, and I kicked him in the balls. It only startled him. And they fell off. ‘Good’ I thought, ‘no more mini versions of you’ as I remembered the glass-eyed babies. I wrenched the meat cleaver out of his hand, the hand coming off with it. I hacked of fatty’s head. Then I noticed my friends. They had come closer. I noticed their faces, half of it missing. They circled me like hungry sharks. They pulled out blood-covered knives. They started stabbing me. ‘Goodbye, world’, I thought to myself. I woke up, my bed damp with sweat. My hands were shackled. I was a prisoner, in my own house. Taken shortly after The Flood. Zombies ruled the land. Humans became from hunters to hunted. Nearly everyone was dead. But not me.
    It's pretty well-written Although, being a huge horror story fan, there seemed to be something missing. Perhaps the pacing was a bit too fast to properly let the dread and anxiety sink in for the reader? When the guy opened the fridge and saw the body parts, I found myself yelling in my head, "Get out of the flipping house!!" Haha and obviously he decides to go upstairs, classic. x
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    should be in Relationships
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    (Original post by BookBird)
    It's pretty well-written Although, being a huge horror story fan, there seemed to be something missing. Perhaps the pacing was a bit too fast to properly let the dread and anxiety sink in for the reader? When the guy opened the fridge and saw the body parts, I found myself yelling in my head, "Get out of the flipping house!!" Haha and obviously he decides to go upstairs, classic. x
    oh sorry. i had to write a story based on a picture. there was a lighthouse, ship, a face and a house.
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    "I saw a jar of marbles. I love marbles."

    I'm sorry but :rofl:
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    To be fair it is well written, as my english teacher (**** him and his no good miserable life) says, it needs polishing up, but really it is good! Maybe work on less cliched topics rather than zombies...
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    (Original post by Alexion)
    "I saw a jar of marbles. I love marbles."

    I'm sorry but :rofl:
    what
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    (Original post by callum_20011)
    what
    It's good but that comment seemed so out of place and made me chuckle :cute:
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    (Original post by Alexion)
    It's good but that comment seemed so out of place and made me chuckle :cute:
    oh ok lol
 
 
 
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