Welcome to the 1st Annual Justine Moritz Literary contest. If you win this contest you win $500 in ads on our site and the right to say that you are the winner of this grim horror award. The rules are simple:
50 Words or less
Post in the comments
Deadline is April 17, 2017
Must have a title (does not count in the word count)
Must be scary, clever, awesome….best story wins
We pick the winners. If you win you have 1 year to claim your prize. If you have questions about what to write think of Ms. Moritz. Framed for murder by one of the most famous monsters in history, she confesses under pressure and is executed. This is tortured innocent blood.
Post your stories below. The best stories might be picked out, as we like them, and placed on “tiles” and promoted on our FB and Pinterest pages.
Post your stories below.
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How to Break a Window
See her vehicle in driveway.
Inside home, enter hall closet.
Behind winter coats, under LIFE and MONOPOLY JR, find last year’s hockey bag.
Wear medical-grade gloves, open hockey bag with BBQ tongs.
Hold nose to dig through fermenting Karate gear and locate regulation little-league bat.
Hit home runs.
Uselessness
It’s the feeling of a hole in your pocket, and change spread a few hundred feet behind you. But you can’t make the choice whether or not to go and pick it up, to start over. By turning around and facing the past, you relive the pain again and again.
George wept while he waited for the execution to begin.
The warden arrived, said nothing. George weeping all the way, followed him to the gallows. George thought “Why Me? I’m just a cold blooded murderer.”
They put the noose around the neck. George pulled the handle hard, murdering the killer.
Sidelines
She felt nothing when it happened. It did not occur to her to feel or think at all. She was on the sidelines, watching something terrible, but it never reached her mind.
Just like most, her eyes saw, but her heart didn’t.
Justice
Revenge, MacReady decided, was sticky and smelled like stale beer. He scraped the blood and sick from his blade on the slats of a crate. It left a dark stain: a final memento and fitting epitaph for Cadwaller. Dirty job, but someone had to teach the old billy-gizzard a lesson.
Muggery’s Two-Baller
Old Muggery, shoveling the parking lot, put a face on his snowman, just two balls and a snout. “Snouty! No daughter of mine’s gonna tell me when to quit drivin’ and quit my own home for that Serenity Home for the Aged.” With a THWACK, he sent her head rolling.
They boarded at De Gaulle while televisions shouted slaughter at a concert hall, and a stadium.
They weren’t coming back to this hatred.
They looked forward to Cher and 2,000 screaming fans in Vegas.
Vegas was no Paris, just a different whore.
Guns and explosives were easier to get there.
A Prima Donna and a Prima Dopa
Ramon walked with Leila.
“We never go to the opera.”
Perplexed, he asked, “What is music to you?”
She stomped her beribboned foot. “Unless a man sing or make poetry, he’ll not share my bed.”
Passionately he sang,
“Ah dearest love,
Dost thou me reprove?…
and, weeping, fell into a manhole.
A Rare Day in June
He spoke and she said, “Tell me the story.”
He spoke.
“No, tell me the whole story!”
He stopped, thinking: but where to begin? “I’ll begin at the end and work backwards: I lay dead on my deathbed. Martha brought me stew. ‘Today I die,’ I thought. The sun rose.”
Nightmare Hunter
It comes for you in the dark, a creature formed from the lost souls and remains of its victims. The remains make its body grow bigger. A bigger body needs more souls. It’s vicious cycle of kill, grow, eat, and tonight it hunts.
Heat Stroke
83 Miles, 105° heat. For cyclists, it’s churning butter in a sauna. Uphill, downhill, and turn around to head back. Four miles past the turn-around, the lights go dark. Into the ditch the front wheel goes. Wake up, spring up, but no idea what happened. 37 long miles to home.
Sun and Silence.
That is all she remembers, the scorching sun that illuminated the desert. And the deafening silence that ensued after Saheed had given her his one and only bottle of water.
Life
You’re asleep,cozy,warm,safe. A rumbling,rocking motion picking up speed. Something pushing you away from your cozy comfort, making noises in your silent paradise.You’re suddenly yanked into the light. You swing upside down as something smacks away at you. You can’t feel. You can’t breathe. You’re still.
Title: Strega
She was a young girl living in Ischia, when the cat appeared at her window. Her mother believed that all cats were witches, and burned the cat with a hot griddle. The next day there was a knock at the door—an old, haggard woman—burn marks on her face.
Patience
Eyes peered from under the bed. Her mother thrown through the open iron door, bleeding from her missing eyes. She could not see their future. The camp guard scowled “Du bist keine Hexa.”
“The witches are coming for me.” his last words whispered.
“I know father, they are here.”
Living on the Edge
“You know,” she said, testing an edge, “Consciousness is just an amazing thing, spirit joined to flesh! I mean, where exactly is the edge between them?”
His head thrashing, he fought the ropes.
She smiled, picked up the knife.
“Well, if you don’t know either, let’s have a look.”
Single Mother, Only Child
This dark, windy, late, night; with the trees shaking and shadows raking across the windows. While in the kitchen, I heard rustles upstairs and called out “hello.” A cough then reply “its me honey.” I start to respond “I thought” front door opened, mom said “who are you talking to.”
I was hoping for more 50 worders, but I understand this year is always the lowest in the contests. Halloween is huge, this one is low participation….I’m still hopeful. Deadline is the 17th.
AND we will be meeting up on April 19 at 9 pm to watch a movie and talk about the winners, plus we HAVE some EWR news, be there! Details: https://www.everywritersresource.com/halloween-movie-night/
Midday Murder
Quiet afternoon. Baby is sleeping. She loads the dishwasher, starts the dryer.
Curling up in the armchair for a quick snooze when the cat jumps up. “Meow. Follow me.”
The feline jumps down and rounds the corner.
She follows.
The fat rat.
Spliced open.
And what are those little….
Triplets.
For those of us who couldn’t attend the movie night, could you please post a list of the winning entries?
Yes, I will list the winners. We are waiting to hear back from one of them….
Also, remember, if you come to our once monthly movie night, we are happy to answer any questions you have….
Did you email me by chance? I haven’t received anything.
Rag Doll
I couldn’t scream, move, or open my eyes; just breath, and listen.
I heard the pounding of dirt slowly smothering my coffin.
Voices above grieved my death, though it has not arrived.
Yet.
Unmoving, eyes closed, and voiceless, I lay powerless.
Just listening.
Like a rag doll.