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October contest - Who owns fear?

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October contest - Who owns fear? Empty October contest - Who owns fear?

Post by FantasyBound October 14th 2021, 1:38 am

Was that my fault?

A short, balding man with a red shirt and blue jeans crouched over the body of a dead bird, phone light flashing over the creature that he could only assume was the thing to leave the crack in his beatup pickups windshield. He stayed down and investigated the body, looking over the somewhat crushed body of the bird, little feathers blowing around in the wind.

“Well you done it now Andy, you fucking did it now… Gonna cost a ton you little shit...”

He couldn’t help but hold a saddened look over the corpse of the bird, he always was like this, always. He felt bad for the small animal that chanced upon impacting the glass of his vehicle, if it wasn’t so plastered to the ground he would have moved it off the road and into the ditch, so when something came to eat it, they would not meet the same face as the bird. With a hardened face, Andy stood and got into his vehicle, climbing up the one step needed to properly swing his body in and shut the door.
Looking to start the vehicle, as always took a second to get the engine kicking but it was as usal, a little tricky but a reliable old machine. Turning his head up and ahead, turning his hazard lights off, he noticed there was no crack on his windshield.

“Oh, hahaha… Damn, it was just the light.”

Relieved that he would not have to pay up to get such a weird mistake fixed, starting to go ahead, he was just about to make it to the small town up ahead, the one he always forgot the name of, always.


I swore I went left already, house is just around the corner though, next left

“C’mon Lancy, atta girl, burn them calories!”

This woman took short strong steps in a light blue running outfit, white earmuffs, and red gloves. She was listening to something on her phone, pop music from three years prior that was still trending, she was certain of it. She was strong for someone her age, and incredibly fit. Reaching her fifties and still strong and lively as ever, those two dogs of hers always kept her active. She took a left at the green fire hydrant.

I swore I went left already, house is just around the corner though, next left

“C’mon Lancy, atta girl, burn them calories!”


Some small kicks of gravel on the road, there was always gravel in this back way, she was almost home, she had a house at just the end of this way, and well she could have gone round where her neighbors always said it was safer, she always took the back route. It was just a stone’s throw away.
Matter of fact just a left to the light post.

I swore I went left already, house is just around the corner though, next left

“C’mon Lancy, atta girl, burn them calories!”


She heard a loud huffing noise, almost enough to drown out her music, going up a few clicks she caused the sound to vanish, she always liked her music at a good three to four out of a hundred so she could hear things around her, but at a rating eighty out of a hundred, this noise was no longer a problem.
Her hand weakly lifted to her mouth, wiping at dry bloodied lips, she swore she tasted something salty, just a bit of saliva to wet her lips. With a dry huff that ended in a gurgle, more blood came slightly from her mouth, the rattling sounds of dying lungs, wiped off with the back of her white gloves stained red.
The video camera swayed, following her movements from atop a power pole.
She turned left at the green fire hydrant.

I swore I went left already, house is just around the corner though, next left

“C’mon Lancy, atta girl, burn them calories!”



A young figure collapsed in an alleyway, tripping with a busted chin he scrambled back to his feet and kept running.

"Fuck! Fuckin run Simon!"

Expectant of hearing his friend's footsteps, he instead heard a comically smooth and audible springing sound, like it came from his Saturday morning cartoon. The young man winced and his hands shook raising by his ears, he wanted to drown those things out but they already heard him, he wanted to hear them if they were coming.
Dead hands, grayed and ugly and battered and DEAD. They grabbed Bailey and strung her arms longer than the city block, she was still aware of every moment as they used her arms like large skipping ropes until they twisted and fell off, that's when they went for the legs and neck. They turned and ran by then.

A red pickup was moved like a toy car by a giant hand, finger pressed into the ceiling of the vehicle and taking up the driver's seat as it floated about, he swore he saw someone smashed against the windshield, they did not die either. Nobody was dying, and that was the worst part.

Riley tried to kill one with a crowbar, he hit one, and a dozen more came and took the bar, they beat Riley. They beat him over and over, they hit him so fast and so hard, that it didn't even sound like hits anymore, it sounded like god damn blending.

He didn't want to know what they did to Simon, but Simon wasn't dead, and that was the worst part.
Almost as bad as the giant finger in front of him, he crashed into this massive thing, stretching into the cloudy sky past where he could see. There was no damn way out of this.
Screaming, Ian pressed against the giant hand, feeling the tight strong grasp from dozens of cold dead hands. Being dragged away he could hardly struggle, held arched as he felt dozens of fingers squirm and pull at the insides of his mouth, his jaw hardly holding in place as many hands forced into his stomach.


The small town whose name cannot be found, read, or remembered. Is being held in the palm of a giant hand, the fingers up and arched over.
Inside, many mangled bodies lay about, they are not dead. Many dead hands though, of various sizes and shapes, those move about, following unknown commands.
Unknown for now that is.
A single house seems to have hundreds of these things crawling just outside it's perimeter, old and white and gray, this house the hands leave alone, but many circle just outside of the yard.
FantasyBound
FantasyBound
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