Writing Prompt

The room was still.

The dusty mirror in the corner showed no life, the discarded toys sat, frozen in an eternal tea party, glassy eyes staring with a fixed glare.

The stillness is broken by a scream, a child’s scream, and the shouts of ‘Help! Help me!”. The shrill sound forewarns the arrival of it, the small child running as fast as she can, cake smearing her face as her pursuerer runs with outstretched hands, just waiting for the chance to tickle her life away.

“There’s been 15 family slaughters in the past two months here.”

“I said we’ll take it! Not often you get to go camping for a price like that!” Ned said to the booking agent on the phone.

So soon, Ned, his partner Dave, and their daughter Amy went camping. “Is anyone creeped out that we’re the only ones here? And it’s completely silent, no birds or anything?” Amy asked her dads as they set up tents.

“No, not really. I mean there is a guy in the trees holding a big knife, maybe he scared the birds away?” Dave said, busying himself with the grill. “Who wants hot dogs?”

Noon turned to evening, and by morning the family woke up to a surprise. All their food was gone, and the grass had been burned into a message - LEAVE NOW.

“Hmm.” Ned mused. “Probably kids.”

“Kids? Kids took all our food and burned a evil message in the ground?” Amy asked, disbelieving. “We should go.”

“It’s only been one night.”

So they stayed. The second morning bought skulls around their tents, the third a huge dead deer torn to shreds which Dave cooked up. The fourth night it rained blood. Still they stayed. Until…

The fifth night bought candles and robed figures that accompanied them. They circled the tattered tents, and hummed until the family woke.

“All right! Let’s do this!” Ned announced, emerging. “You have violated the ‘sceptres and ghosts’ code by over killing. I am inspector Ned, this is a violation warning. Next time we will be bringing you in.”

The figures scuttle away, and the morning brings birds and a fresh supply of food back in their tents.

“What did you do, dad?” Amy asks. “I was so scared!”

Ned stirs his coffee in his camping mug. “I bluffed, hon.” And takes a long sip.

My friends warned me, why didn’t I listen. They told me not to come but I did. Its creepy and old, this house is broken and destroyed. Tiles creek and lift as I walk up the stairs. Carpets on the floor gone and destroyed, noises are heard coming from the attic. I look around the upstairs and walk into the kids bedroom, tired it is, there’s the bunk bed for twins with worn out stuffed animals on the beds. I turn and look into the mirror, my eyes burned as I felt my reflection shift in a way I didn’t. I ignore it and turn around to leave. Just then I heard a noise from the mirror. I turn around and nothing happened so I ignore it and go to leave. When in that moment something jumps at me from behind, a version of me. I barely got to see him for a second as I blacked out, and that was the last place I was ever seen, at least the real me. As I’m still trapped in this mirror for eternity.

It wasn’t everyday that the F.L.I.N.C.H (Finding Likeable Incredibly Nasty Cats Hiding) Organization had a party, but when they did, it was memorable.

“Their party is toast,” Mister Kitteh hissed, when he got the info from their mole on the inside.

“Heh heh yes indeed!” The mole whined.

“Get this mole outta here,” Mister Kitteh swiped a paw at the wretched creature before the Kitteh Minions kicked him out.

“Tonight we CRASH this party!”

“Do you think the party will go without a hitch?” Agent 001 asked her partner, Agent 001.a.

“I think not,” 001.a said. “And that’s the point.”

“Heh heh yes indeed!” The mole giggled.

The salmon mousse had just been set out when a crashing noise came from the ceiling.

“Ha!” Mister Kitteh cried as he leapt onto the dance floor. “You’re finished, FLINCH!”

Everyone clapped. Kitteh looked confused.

“Happy Birthday, Mister Kitteh!” The entire floor of FLINCH agents applauded and balloons and confetti fell.

“You … remembered!” The likable yet nasty cat clapped his paws together in delight.

“Of course!” The mole squeeked. “I’m a double agent, you see.”

It’s start on a cold weekend out to our favorite place in the woods nearby the city city park. Away from the crowds and nosies of the city. But this time it’s different after hearing the news report of the escape killer. But we weren’t going to let that dampen our spirits. We will keep the fire big and roaring

**Your beauty is like the sun ** **vibrant and bliss to all but me ** **for me it is like the sun for ** **I wish to see it every morning ** **as the birds chirp ** **and every evening when the ** day is done

**Will you be my ** **Sunshine **

We all wear black to ensure the blood doesn’t show on our clothing. Mother decides to wear her pearl earrings, not caring if they get stained. Though, can pearls get stained? We all get into Father’s car, it’s fast and sleek, perfect for a good getaway. Deven puts on his headphones for the car ride, hyping himself up. I carefully study our plan in my notebook, but my nails distract me. Soon they’ll be bloodied, but, at least it’ll be for fun.

“Alright, now, we’re in and out, okay, I don’t want any funny business,” Father says as we park at our destination. “And Deven, no fooling around with the bait. We can’t risk getting caught.” The night’s darkness cloaks us as we walk through the gates, being careful to be as quiet as mice. Father slowly brings us closer and closer to our target, motioning us to be quick, yet quiet. Mother parts her way to grab the needed materials for clean up as Deven and Father go unlock the door. I’m the distraction. I carefully climb up a ladder near a window and slip through without any noise. I see him. He’s even more terrifying in person, but I don’t let him reach my nerves. I see a flash of red and know it’s Father signal. I need to distract…now. “Hello,” I say, getting his attention. Slowly he prowls near me. Father and Deven creep close near me, their hands covered in blood. They throw something at the creature and he leaves me. I breathe. I walk towards Father and Deven as they hand me a lamb’s bone, soaked in blood. Mother comes in with a broom and bucket. We all watch as the unique nocturnal black panther devours the food we’ve given him.

After we washed up, Father smiles at us all. “I knew this would work, sneaking you guys into the exhibit.” I spot his silver zookeeper badge sparkling in the moonlight. Mother smiles as well. “I still can’t believe I feed the panther!” Deven exclaims. “I still can’t believe he saw me,” I whisper.

The family’s zoo adventure was sure a fun one.

Peter’s teeth gnashed up and down as he spoke. Every sound around me, including his words, muffled. Every sight blurred. I zoomed in on Peter’s mouth, what looked like blood splattered his lips every time it moved. Meat was wedged between his teeth. I hate watching Peter eat steak tips whenever we have a family barbecue.

The unused cold grill, was turning flaming hot Who knew if the guests, would show or not

Mother dressed in her usual black, with death lace Eyes were present, but there was no smile on her face

Father didn’t arrive, but watched from the window below Looking up at the skies raining, red blood of new snow

Granny who was pushing, a hundred and two scary years Was laughing and telling tales, bringing us spooks to tears

Woolfie or also known as, little furry rascal of a brother He was raised in the woods, and found by our mother

As we all settled, down around the blazing fire flames of heat Our visitors or company arrived, expecting yummy things to eat

Another day, another hunt.

Most families in our post-apocalyptic bliss spend their evenings snuggled together in the comfort of their own bunker. Telling stories of what once was, cracking jokes in attempt to lighten the devastating mood, or maybe even being so lucky as to read a book that they came across during evacuation.

But not my little band of psychopaths. We take the Zs head on.

“Last one to a dozen cooks dinner!” Yells Jess, my brother’s wife. She brandishes her sparkling machete, testing the edge for lethal sharpness. Despite being seven months pregnant, this woman is deadly.

“Deal.” My dad sniggers. A cleaver is his weapon of choice. Even at 72 the man is as lithe as a lion. It was probably all the multi-vitamins and fish oil. Or so he claims.

My mom, Carol, comes up behind him and kisses my dad on the cheek. “Well that’s not fair. Some of us go for quality over quantity.”

My mom would be right. Unlike the rest of us, the Zs she shoots down always stay down. There’s nothing more unsettling that one of those Walkers getting back up again once you thought you took its head off. I had one that was literally hanging on by a single tendon. Swinging from side to side like a pendulum. The heads gotta be clean off, otherwise the job ain’t done.

My younger sister, Clara, comes up behind me, shotgun at the ready. “Sun’s getting low.”

We all nod. Showtime.