Hey again!
Some of you asked to see some of horror shorts. Here's one of them... not my best work but I hope you enjoy regardless. I also would love to hear your comments!
Knock On Wood
By Michael Kras
“Identity theft.”
Sue had a knack for that. Every time she watched Wheel of Fortune, she’d get the correct word or phrase before the contestants would… it was her own mental stimulation before bed. Watching Wheel of Fortune every night helped her get to sleep… not to mention it ended exactly at midnight, her bedtime. Sue finished her last swallow of tea and began to close up the house.
“Identity theft?”
“That is correct! Congratulations Jeff, you’re tonight’s winner on… WHEEL… OF… FORTUNE!”
Lights out. Sue lay in her bed, softly breathing and planning her coming day in her head… Get up, go to work, come home, phone Bonnie, watch Wheel of Fortune at 11 with her Earl Grey tea, go to bed at 12, rinse and repeat. That’s Sue’s life… she does little, achieves little, tries for little, and likes it that way. It would be perfect if she could just drop her job… but beggars can’t be choosers.
Did she forget to buy more coffee cream today? Ah, no, she’s got a fresh carton in the fridge already. Even though she goes to bed at midnight, she’ll never fall asleep earlier than 1am. For someone with nothing to look forward to or look back on, Sue still has a lot to think about. Then again, she’s very delusional… she considers her life one most people would kill to have when, in reality, it’s a life people would kill THEMSELVES for if they had. Most people want all the attention they can get… some want little… then there’s Sue, one who seeks absolutely no attention or true companionship.
Sue shut her eyes and relaxed… time to fall into that familiar night-long trance, a 7-hour solace where you can just let go and forget everything for a little while. But not tonight… no, you just can’t sleep when you hear a soft knock on your front door.
Was it a knock? Sue couldn’t be sure… what she heard was so faint, she wasn’t sure if it was a real knock or just her own imagination. No… it couldn’t be… Sue has no imagination. She sits completely still, not daring to make another noise. After all, she has to listen for the next knock.
There was, indeed, another knock… a loud one too. There’s no way that knock wasn’t real. Sue sat up in her bed and grazed her bare feet across the floor, waiting to feel the plush softness of her slippers. She looked over at her digital alarm clock… 1:27. ****, there’s no way she’d get out of bed this late to answer the door. Sue climbed back into bed, pulled the sheets back over herself, and slowly closed both eyelids.
BANG… BANG… BANG
Sue sat up in surprise, almost instantaneously… like a Jack in the Box after hitting that familiar “POP” in “Pop Goes The Weasel”. Sue sure was one for analogy. Now she was concerned… who could it be? A burglar? A serial killer? This knocking wasn’t a “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” knock, it was more of an “Open the ****ING door so I can rip your throat out” knock. Sue curled herself up in her bed and placed her pillow tightly over her head… why wouldn’t he just ****ing go away? Sue’s face was wet… she wiped it quickly with her bed sheet. She lay there, tightly bundled, and tried to relax. But then it hit her… did she lock the front door?
Sue became Jack again, leaping out of bed. **** the slippers. She slowly, gently tip-toed down her front hall… thank God for carpeting. Sue didn’t dare breathe. “Aaahh”. Sue kicked the banister in the dark, quite hard too. She let out a small gasp but didn’t DARE scream.
She reached the edge of the stairs. Now, it was time to take extreme care… she no longer tip-toed, she shimmied her feet across the floor ever so gently. The edge of the banister is right there, and a place for Sue to take a look. She wishes she hadn’t.
There’s a man. Not any man she recognized. He was dressed entirely in black and just… stood there. He was right in the front hall, just in front of the door, staring straight ahead. Both feet, dressed in scuffed black shoes, stood together, in an almost… gentlemanly fashion. Both hands, smooth, leathery claws, lay relaxed and clasped in front of him. And he just stood there. Sue was as motionless as the man. Sue reached for her non-existent bed sheet… her face was wet again. She prayed the man wouldn’t look in her direction, and he didn’t. Oh, he knew she was there, she could tell… but he certainly didn’t make it obviously. Sue looked at the man’s hands, carefully… was he holding a knife? No. His hands were empty. What the **** is going on?
Sue tried to speak… she wanted to say “Who the **** are you?” and “Get the **** OUT” but couldn’t. She couldn’t be brought to say anything, her mouth felt completely dry. Sue was terrified. The man still didn’t move, not an inch. Why was he so calm? What was he thinking? Why was he HERE? Why this house? Why won’t he ****ING MOVE?
Sue felt infuriated, and terrified at the same time. This mixture of emotion confused her, to the point where she could no longer bare it. She didn’t care about what he wanted anymore… she just wanted him to MOVE. Sue ran down her set of stairs. Four steps from the bottom, three, two… BAM. Sue tripped on the second to last step, and went sailing forward, dragging her face against the ceramic tile floor as she was flung forward. Her face was wet again, but not from tears. Sue screamed… the man didn’t move.
Sue leapt off the floor. “WHAT THE **** DO YOU WAAAAAAAAAANT?!?” she screamed, careless of how loud she was. No response. She lunged at the man, pushing him, trying to move this ****ing statue that stood in her front hall. She shoved him with all of the strength she could muster, throwing her fully body at him with a force that could crack a wall. The man didn’t move… not one bit. Why couldn’t this son of a ***** MOVE? Sue screamed again, certainly something, but no words were audible. She collapsed on the ground in anguish, almost as though she had admitted defeat. Pink tear drops fell on her white floor. Sue touched her face… OUCH, her nose was bent out of shape. Sue grabbed hold of its tip gently, hands trembling, praying she wouldn’t slip and do more damage than good. She twisted her nose slowly, yelling in pain and she did. She felt her bones scraping along each other, it was nearly unbearable… she pressed her nose into position and sobbed. Sweat, blood, tears, what a mess. The man didn’t move.
She couldn’t take it anymore. This had to end. Sue dashed to her bedroom, opened her underwear drawer, and rummaged until she found an old antique Prince Albert tin tucked into the corner. She opened it… perfect, the shotgun she kept just in case. Living along, being alone, she had to be careful didn’t she? She loaded one single bullet into the chamber… one is all she’d need, Sue had great aim. Sue began laughing… finally, this would all be over. She dashed back downstairs, gun in hand, and stood before the man… the man who stood exactly the same as he did when he first appeared. Sue aimed, and took her time. After all, he wasn’t going to move.
Expecting to be shaking uncontrollably, Sue was surprisingly steady. She put her finger on the trigger carefully, and hastily pulled it. BANG. Nothing. Did she miss? The man still stood, he didn’t even stagger or flinch. No, she was certain she hit him. Sue dropped the gun… she didn’t cry, scream, nothing of the sort. She just… stood there. Her face was completely blank… devoid of any emotion whatsoever. She looked at the gun on the floor, and picked it up, cradling it in both hands with care. She was wrong. She would need more bullets.
The gun carried Sue up the stairs. Sue entered the bedroom, opened the Prince Albert can, and removed another bullet. She calmly loaded it. Now let’s see… under the chin, or in the mouth… what would be quicker?
Dawn broke, a day past, and dusk appeared again. The man was gone. It was 11pm… Wheel of Fortune time. But Sue wasn’t around to beat the contestants.
Some of you asked to see some of horror shorts. Here's one of them... not my best work but I hope you enjoy regardless. I also would love to hear your comments!
Knock On Wood
By Michael Kras
“Identity theft.”
Sue had a knack for that. Every time she watched Wheel of Fortune, she’d get the correct word or phrase before the contestants would… it was her own mental stimulation before bed. Watching Wheel of Fortune every night helped her get to sleep… not to mention it ended exactly at midnight, her bedtime. Sue finished her last swallow of tea and began to close up the house.
“Identity theft?”
“That is correct! Congratulations Jeff, you’re tonight’s winner on… WHEEL… OF… FORTUNE!”
Lights out. Sue lay in her bed, softly breathing and planning her coming day in her head… Get up, go to work, come home, phone Bonnie, watch Wheel of Fortune at 11 with her Earl Grey tea, go to bed at 12, rinse and repeat. That’s Sue’s life… she does little, achieves little, tries for little, and likes it that way. It would be perfect if she could just drop her job… but beggars can’t be choosers.
Did she forget to buy more coffee cream today? Ah, no, she’s got a fresh carton in the fridge already. Even though she goes to bed at midnight, she’ll never fall asleep earlier than 1am. For someone with nothing to look forward to or look back on, Sue still has a lot to think about. Then again, she’s very delusional… she considers her life one most people would kill to have when, in reality, it’s a life people would kill THEMSELVES for if they had. Most people want all the attention they can get… some want little… then there’s Sue, one who seeks absolutely no attention or true companionship.
Sue shut her eyes and relaxed… time to fall into that familiar night-long trance, a 7-hour solace where you can just let go and forget everything for a little while. But not tonight… no, you just can’t sleep when you hear a soft knock on your front door.
Was it a knock? Sue couldn’t be sure… what she heard was so faint, she wasn’t sure if it was a real knock or just her own imagination. No… it couldn’t be… Sue has no imagination. She sits completely still, not daring to make another noise. After all, she has to listen for the next knock.
There was, indeed, another knock… a loud one too. There’s no way that knock wasn’t real. Sue sat up in her bed and grazed her bare feet across the floor, waiting to feel the plush softness of her slippers. She looked over at her digital alarm clock… 1:27. ****, there’s no way she’d get out of bed this late to answer the door. Sue climbed back into bed, pulled the sheets back over herself, and slowly closed both eyelids.
BANG… BANG… BANG
Sue sat up in surprise, almost instantaneously… like a Jack in the Box after hitting that familiar “POP” in “Pop Goes The Weasel”. Sue sure was one for analogy. Now she was concerned… who could it be? A burglar? A serial killer? This knocking wasn’t a “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” knock, it was more of an “Open the ****ING door so I can rip your throat out” knock. Sue curled herself up in her bed and placed her pillow tightly over her head… why wouldn’t he just ****ing go away? Sue’s face was wet… she wiped it quickly with her bed sheet. She lay there, tightly bundled, and tried to relax. But then it hit her… did she lock the front door?
Sue became Jack again, leaping out of bed. **** the slippers. She slowly, gently tip-toed down her front hall… thank God for carpeting. Sue didn’t dare breathe. “Aaahh”. Sue kicked the banister in the dark, quite hard too. She let out a small gasp but didn’t DARE scream.
She reached the edge of the stairs. Now, it was time to take extreme care… she no longer tip-toed, she shimmied her feet across the floor ever so gently. The edge of the banister is right there, and a place for Sue to take a look. She wishes she hadn’t.
There’s a man. Not any man she recognized. He was dressed entirely in black and just… stood there. He was right in the front hall, just in front of the door, staring straight ahead. Both feet, dressed in scuffed black shoes, stood together, in an almost… gentlemanly fashion. Both hands, smooth, leathery claws, lay relaxed and clasped in front of him. And he just stood there. Sue was as motionless as the man. Sue reached for her non-existent bed sheet… her face was wet again. She prayed the man wouldn’t look in her direction, and he didn’t. Oh, he knew she was there, she could tell… but he certainly didn’t make it obviously. Sue looked at the man’s hands, carefully… was he holding a knife? No. His hands were empty. What the **** is going on?
Sue tried to speak… she wanted to say “Who the **** are you?” and “Get the **** OUT” but couldn’t. She couldn’t be brought to say anything, her mouth felt completely dry. Sue was terrified. The man still didn’t move, not an inch. Why was he so calm? What was he thinking? Why was he HERE? Why this house? Why won’t he ****ING MOVE?
Sue felt infuriated, and terrified at the same time. This mixture of emotion confused her, to the point where she could no longer bare it. She didn’t care about what he wanted anymore… she just wanted him to MOVE. Sue ran down her set of stairs. Four steps from the bottom, three, two… BAM. Sue tripped on the second to last step, and went sailing forward, dragging her face against the ceramic tile floor as she was flung forward. Her face was wet again, but not from tears. Sue screamed… the man didn’t move.
Sue leapt off the floor. “WHAT THE **** DO YOU WAAAAAAAAAANT?!?” she screamed, careless of how loud she was. No response. She lunged at the man, pushing him, trying to move this ****ing statue that stood in her front hall. She shoved him with all of the strength she could muster, throwing her fully body at him with a force that could crack a wall. The man didn’t move… not one bit. Why couldn’t this son of a ***** MOVE? Sue screamed again, certainly something, but no words were audible. She collapsed on the ground in anguish, almost as though she had admitted defeat. Pink tear drops fell on her white floor. Sue touched her face… OUCH, her nose was bent out of shape. Sue grabbed hold of its tip gently, hands trembling, praying she wouldn’t slip and do more damage than good. She twisted her nose slowly, yelling in pain and she did. She felt her bones scraping along each other, it was nearly unbearable… she pressed her nose into position and sobbed. Sweat, blood, tears, what a mess. The man didn’t move.
She couldn’t take it anymore. This had to end. Sue dashed to her bedroom, opened her underwear drawer, and rummaged until she found an old antique Prince Albert tin tucked into the corner. She opened it… perfect, the shotgun she kept just in case. Living along, being alone, she had to be careful didn’t she? She loaded one single bullet into the chamber… one is all she’d need, Sue had great aim. Sue began laughing… finally, this would all be over. She dashed back downstairs, gun in hand, and stood before the man… the man who stood exactly the same as he did when he first appeared. Sue aimed, and took her time. After all, he wasn’t going to move.
Expecting to be shaking uncontrollably, Sue was surprisingly steady. She put her finger on the trigger carefully, and hastily pulled it. BANG. Nothing. Did she miss? The man still stood, he didn’t even stagger or flinch. No, she was certain she hit him. Sue dropped the gun… she didn’t cry, scream, nothing of the sort. She just… stood there. Her face was completely blank… devoid of any emotion whatsoever. She looked at the gun on the floor, and picked it up, cradling it in both hands with care. She was wrong. She would need more bullets.
The gun carried Sue up the stairs. Sue entered the bedroom, opened the Prince Albert can, and removed another bullet. She calmly loaded it. Now let’s see… under the chin, or in the mouth… what would be quicker?
Dawn broke, a day past, and dusk appeared again. The man was gone. It was 11pm… Wheel of Fortune time. But Sue wasn’t around to beat the contestants.
