Post by (s)aint on Mar 4, 2014 5:11:58 GMT
So I got stuck with this group who did nothing and we had to write a horror story. Well, I decided to make it as cliche as possible, and did it all in one class period. So here is 45 minutes of work, just wanted to get something posted here ha.
Fun fact - The name Mary Knight comes from Katherine Knight. Google her.
“Cliché Doll Story”
Rain pounded heavily against the windows, as Mary Knight lay listening apathetically in her bed. Slowly she got to her feet and peered out the grimy window. The only thing visible to her was a veil of gushing water. “Looks like I’m stuck here for a while,” she muttered bitterly. Mary’s parents owned a cabin in the woods of a small town called Brahms. They had bought the cabin when Mary was around four; a short while after her baby sister had passed away. Mary however, had no interest in the dusty cabin, and was angry at her parents for dragging her to the middle of nowhere yet again. When they arrived, she stormed to the room and had thrown her clothes on her bed. Then something strange caught her eye, a porcelain arm, which was sticking out from underneath the bed. Curious, she bent down and found it to be a doll. The doll itself had milk while skin, and a pale blue dress that was tarnished and dingy. She gingerly ran her fingers through the doll’s thick blonde hair and stared into the soulless brilliant blue eyes. “How’d this get here?” she wondered. As she continued to delve into the eyes she developed a strange numbing sensation in her head. “Agh not this again,” she thought angrily. Slowly, she proceeded to a nearby drawer where after a moment’s hesitation; shut the doll inside the drawer. She then crawled back into her bed and drifted off into sleep.
Mary awoke suddenly, several hours later, and lay there staring at the ceiling. Her sheets lay crumpled on the ground beneath her bare feet. “I’m freezing!” she thought miserably as she got to her feet. Rubbing her eyes, she scanned the room. Something was different though. The drawer where she had placed the doll was open and her door lay slightly ajar. “What the?...” she whispered, as she advanced towards the door. She went to turn on the light switch but to her dismay, the power had gone out. “Old piece of junk!” she thought annoyed. Mary poked her head out of her head out of the door and glanced down the dark, dingy hallway. “Mom….Dad?” When she got to her parents door she noticed that it was slightly open. With a loud creak, the door opened. “Mom, Dad? Where you in my room, be…” but she trailed off. Something was not right and she knew it immediately. Lucidly, almost as if in a trance, she advanced towards her parent’s bed. There was something unnatural about the way the sheets were pulled up over her parent’s heads. Trembling, she reached out and clutched the soft satin She could feel a wet, warm liquid in the sheet as she clutched it. Finally working up the courage she whisked the sheets back, and as she did let out a scream of horror. Her parents both lay in bed next to each other with their throats slit. They both bore an image of a silent scream on their faces. “Nooo!” Mary screamed and flung her arms over her dad, sobbing.
A low creak caught her attention immediately and she whipped around towards the door. Standing in the doorway was the porcelain doll. Its head was lolled to the side and staring at Mary with its, cold lifeless eyes. A knife was held in its small miniature hands. “What the…you…It?” her mind was racing but she did not have much time to think. With surprising speed, the doll titled its back and started walking towards her in a grotesque crab like manner. “Get away,” she shrieked. As she ran past it, she felt the cold metal slice into her flesh. She fell to the ground screaming as her Achilles tendon gushed out crimson red. The doll stopped and continued to stare at her, no emotion could be seen upon its fixed gaze. She kicked at the doll with her good leg and sent it flying into the wall. Mary reached out with both arms and clawed her way forward on the wood floor, as the trail of blood followed her. She crawled towards the nearest room she could reach which was a guest room. As she reached the frame she looked behind her shoulder to see the doll lying on the ground, unmoving. With all her might she reached up to the door and closed it behind her. When the lock clicked, indicating it was shut, she breathed a sigh of relief. Gingerly, she got to her feet and hobbled towards a nearby drawer for support. Glancing around the room she could tell it had been unused for a long time. The walls were painted an egg blue, but were dank and dusty. Happy faced clouds and a gigantic sun was painted on the wall, and on the ceiling a miniature universe rotated. In the center of the room stood a baby crib that was both old, but still had a recognizable luster of new. Running her fingers through her own hair she thought wildly about what lay just outside the door. “What am I going to do?” she thought desperately. “I need to find a weapon…I’ll take a look around” Mary began to walk around the dark room, which masked a silence so astute, that she was sure she could hear her eyelids closing. As she came to the closet, her head began to have that cold, numbing feeling again. “Damn headaches, not now!” Fumbling, she opened the closet door and peered inside. It was bare except for a battered old picture book. Written in crude hand writing was “Happy Memories with Mary and Ashley”
Mary stared at the book, bewildered. “Who’s Ashley?” she thought. Tentatively, she reached down and picked up the slightly sodden book. She flipped through the cracked pages, but only found one photograph. It was a younger her, standing by the very same crib in which was adjacent to her. “I don’t remember this…” She stared hard at the photograph and felt a misty haze in her head starting to take form. At the very same moment, a noise snapped her back to reality. Movement was coming from the crib. She dropped the book at her feet and advanced towards the crib cautiously. Images were racing through her mind. She now remembered a little girl she had known as a child. Although she wasn’t around very long, her parents were very fond of her. Shouts, screams of terror filled her head, images of her mother sobbing. She reached the crib and blinked her eyes several times to see if she was still in reality. Slowly she bent down and felt the soft fabric in between her fingers. She ripped the sheets back and let out a gasp of horror. There lay a little girl, dressed the same as the doll, with her throat slit. Mary backed away as quick as if she had been burned. Then more images flooded into her head, an image of her holding a knife. Feeling of jealousy that burned inside her like an everlasting fire as if set by the sinners of the world. Images of her slicing the young, tender neck and remembrance of the warm, wet liquid splashing onto her young face. “Aaaggh!” she screamed as she fell to the floor twitching.
“Doctor she’s convulsing, we need to secure her immediately!” shouted a distant voice. She felt a pair of strong hands grip her shoulders and could feel a very tight jacket being forced onto her. Still screaming and kicking, she was lifted off her feet, and could feel herself floating away. The sensation felt wonderful and she bent her head back and laughed. Her laughter echoed down the hallway and continued as she was thrust into the room, forevermore.
The bell was ringing as I typed the last part as you can tell, it's rushed and sloppy. But eh, wanted to post something.
Fun fact - The name Mary Knight comes from Katherine Knight. Google her.
“Cliché Doll Story”
Rain pounded heavily against the windows, as Mary Knight lay listening apathetically in her bed. Slowly she got to her feet and peered out the grimy window. The only thing visible to her was a veil of gushing water. “Looks like I’m stuck here for a while,” she muttered bitterly. Mary’s parents owned a cabin in the woods of a small town called Brahms. They had bought the cabin when Mary was around four; a short while after her baby sister had passed away. Mary however, had no interest in the dusty cabin, and was angry at her parents for dragging her to the middle of nowhere yet again. When they arrived, she stormed to the room and had thrown her clothes on her bed. Then something strange caught her eye, a porcelain arm, which was sticking out from underneath the bed. Curious, she bent down and found it to be a doll. The doll itself had milk while skin, and a pale blue dress that was tarnished and dingy. She gingerly ran her fingers through the doll’s thick blonde hair and stared into the soulless brilliant blue eyes. “How’d this get here?” she wondered. As she continued to delve into the eyes she developed a strange numbing sensation in her head. “Agh not this again,” she thought angrily. Slowly, she proceeded to a nearby drawer where after a moment’s hesitation; shut the doll inside the drawer. She then crawled back into her bed and drifted off into sleep.
Mary awoke suddenly, several hours later, and lay there staring at the ceiling. Her sheets lay crumpled on the ground beneath her bare feet. “I’m freezing!” she thought miserably as she got to her feet. Rubbing her eyes, she scanned the room. Something was different though. The drawer where she had placed the doll was open and her door lay slightly ajar. “What the?...” she whispered, as she advanced towards the door. She went to turn on the light switch but to her dismay, the power had gone out. “Old piece of junk!” she thought annoyed. Mary poked her head out of her head out of the door and glanced down the dark, dingy hallway. “Mom….Dad?” When she got to her parents door she noticed that it was slightly open. With a loud creak, the door opened. “Mom, Dad? Where you in my room, be…” but she trailed off. Something was not right and she knew it immediately. Lucidly, almost as if in a trance, she advanced towards her parent’s bed. There was something unnatural about the way the sheets were pulled up over her parent’s heads. Trembling, she reached out and clutched the soft satin She could feel a wet, warm liquid in the sheet as she clutched it. Finally working up the courage she whisked the sheets back, and as she did let out a scream of horror. Her parents both lay in bed next to each other with their throats slit. They both bore an image of a silent scream on their faces. “Nooo!” Mary screamed and flung her arms over her dad, sobbing.
A low creak caught her attention immediately and she whipped around towards the door. Standing in the doorway was the porcelain doll. Its head was lolled to the side and staring at Mary with its, cold lifeless eyes. A knife was held in its small miniature hands. “What the…you…It?” her mind was racing but she did not have much time to think. With surprising speed, the doll titled its back and started walking towards her in a grotesque crab like manner. “Get away,” she shrieked. As she ran past it, she felt the cold metal slice into her flesh. She fell to the ground screaming as her Achilles tendon gushed out crimson red. The doll stopped and continued to stare at her, no emotion could be seen upon its fixed gaze. She kicked at the doll with her good leg and sent it flying into the wall. Mary reached out with both arms and clawed her way forward on the wood floor, as the trail of blood followed her. She crawled towards the nearest room she could reach which was a guest room. As she reached the frame she looked behind her shoulder to see the doll lying on the ground, unmoving. With all her might she reached up to the door and closed it behind her. When the lock clicked, indicating it was shut, she breathed a sigh of relief. Gingerly, she got to her feet and hobbled towards a nearby drawer for support. Glancing around the room she could tell it had been unused for a long time. The walls were painted an egg blue, but were dank and dusty. Happy faced clouds and a gigantic sun was painted on the wall, and on the ceiling a miniature universe rotated. In the center of the room stood a baby crib that was both old, but still had a recognizable luster of new. Running her fingers through her own hair she thought wildly about what lay just outside the door. “What am I going to do?” she thought desperately. “I need to find a weapon…I’ll take a look around” Mary began to walk around the dark room, which masked a silence so astute, that she was sure she could hear her eyelids closing. As she came to the closet, her head began to have that cold, numbing feeling again. “Damn headaches, not now!” Fumbling, she opened the closet door and peered inside. It was bare except for a battered old picture book. Written in crude hand writing was “Happy Memories with Mary and Ashley”
Mary stared at the book, bewildered. “Who’s Ashley?” she thought. Tentatively, she reached down and picked up the slightly sodden book. She flipped through the cracked pages, but only found one photograph. It was a younger her, standing by the very same crib in which was adjacent to her. “I don’t remember this…” She stared hard at the photograph and felt a misty haze in her head starting to take form. At the very same moment, a noise snapped her back to reality. Movement was coming from the crib. She dropped the book at her feet and advanced towards the crib cautiously. Images were racing through her mind. She now remembered a little girl she had known as a child. Although she wasn’t around very long, her parents were very fond of her. Shouts, screams of terror filled her head, images of her mother sobbing. She reached the crib and blinked her eyes several times to see if she was still in reality. Slowly she bent down and felt the soft fabric in between her fingers. She ripped the sheets back and let out a gasp of horror. There lay a little girl, dressed the same as the doll, with her throat slit. Mary backed away as quick as if she had been burned. Then more images flooded into her head, an image of her holding a knife. Feeling of jealousy that burned inside her like an everlasting fire as if set by the sinners of the world. Images of her slicing the young, tender neck and remembrance of the warm, wet liquid splashing onto her young face. “Aaaggh!” she screamed as she fell to the floor twitching.
“Doctor she’s convulsing, we need to secure her immediately!” shouted a distant voice. She felt a pair of strong hands grip her shoulders and could feel a very tight jacket being forced onto her. Still screaming and kicking, she was lifted off her feet, and could feel herself floating away. The sensation felt wonderful and she bent her head back and laughed. Her laughter echoed down the hallway and continued as she was thrust into the room, forevermore.
The bell was ringing as I typed the last part as you can tell, it's rushed and sloppy. But eh, wanted to post something.
