- Cara Michaels (@caramichaels) - Blind Challenge
- Sheilagh Lee (@SweetSheil) - ===Speed Challenge
- Siobhan Muir (@SiobhanMuir) x2! - ===Speed Challenge & Classic Challenge
- Charles W Jones (@ChuckWesJ) - Classic Challenge
- Stevie McCoy (@theglitterlady) - Classic Challenge
And six fantastic stories too!
Of the two entries for the Speed Challenge Sheilagh Lee got the most votes for her story:
Trick or Treat
BySheilagh Lee @SweetSheil
Fear pulsed through her veins and she hid behind a gravestone it was coming... whatever it was. Fog was rolling in great all she needed was to be able to see less. Stupid teens, thought it was macabre. That’s probably all it was dares for Devil’s Night.
“I’m going to kick over a gravestone come help me Fred.”
That was it I might let them come into the graveyard but I was not going to let them destroy it.
“Trick or treat boys” I screamed
They paled and ran sometimes it’s good to be a ghost.
There were a number of entries for the Classic Challenge as well. The story that garnered the most votes was Charles W. Jones
Don't Mess With That Chick
They locked him the catacombs under the city almost a century ago. The workers were kind enough to release and give him sustenance. He ripped their throats out and feasted on their hearts and livers; the rest he left congealing in the coolness of his underworld.
He emerged from underground. He knew the ones that locked him away would be long gone; he would know the descendents when he smelled them. She smelled like her grandmother. He watched her for hours, dreaming of the macabre dance they would have. She felt nefarious eyes burning into her soul. She stepped into her house; a strong earthy smell filled the air. A strong arm crooked around her throat, darkness enshrouded her vision.
She woke in a cold, dim room. He stood behind her. Fear pulsed through her veins as she gingerly stood and turned, facing her stalker. She knew him immediately from the stories her grandparents told. She shrieked denial into the darkness and leapt forward, kicking him in the face. He staggered backward and chuckled. She had spark. Again, she kicked. He grabbed her leg. Her head crashed into the floor, stars exploded in her vision. He released her leg and crouched over her.
Without a second thought, she kicked her legs into his crotch. He gasped. She rolled as he fell. She stood, looking hurriedly around. A few pipes lay on the floor in the corner. She ran over and grabbed one. As she turned, she felt him behind her. She swung the pipe, making contact. She recoiled and launched the pipe into his head again, knocking him to the floor. She beat the pipe into his skull repeatedly, until the congealed mess of his brain oozed out. She sniffed and dropped the pipe. The clang echoed in the chamber.
In the end the single entry for the Blind Challenge was also the BIG WINNER! It's Cara Michaels Check out her blog Defiantly Literate and of course her world famous flash fiction contest Menage Mondays. Here is her winning entry:
The Undying Fountain
By Cara Michaels @caramichaels
Death summoned me, and I welcomed Her embrace.
I'd dealt in the games of life and death, cheating the latter so often that She claimed me with brutal vengeance.
My voice gave out before my screaming.
Trapped in the wreck of my dying form, I watched him poke at me. Please end this. I’d soiled myself and my innards painted the room in bloody bits of tissue and bone.
The pain shrieked through me, drawing a silent cry from me.
My body twitched, a danse macabre of involuntary movement that made him smile.
Let me die.
Not yet, She whispered.
Fear pulsed through my veins, a tattooed beat in time with my heartbeat. Forgive me, Father, for I have—
Sinned? She finished. Yes, you have. That black hole you call your soul needs to offer up a bit more than repentance. You want forgiveness? You start here. Now.
You take the place of the one you would have traded for more life.
Now you suffer.
Her silky laugh brought tears to my eyes.
He noticed and renewed his devotion to my death. He prodded. Sliced. Cut.
Dear God, please don’t let me last.
God won’t help the likes of you.
He captured my blood in small vials, a reverent collector of life. The ruby draughts congealed, the color deepening as they cooled. He filled one case, then two, and still I bled freely.
Sticky fingers stroked my hair.
"Oh, you are precious," he sighed. "So giving."
Quaint to see this side of your little game, isn’t it? Death said. You are his captive fountain of life now.
How long? I asked, the pain overwhelming all other thought.
Until you save as many lives as you sacrificed, She whispered. Seven hundred years of life... You have quite a debt to settle.
(She Gets Two Badges For This One!)