Get ready to unleash your inner horror maestro in the spine-tingling 2023 Eat Your Soul 50 Word Halloween Contest! Share your most blood-curdling, hair-raising 50-word horror stories below, and brace yourself for the terror-fueled showdown of the year.
Why am I doing this? We’re here to quench that Halloween thirst for chills and thrills! The grand prize? Oh, it’s a monstrous treat! The winning tale will be promoted on our site, sent out in a bone-chilling email blast, and hauntingly posted across all our social networks!
I’ve been running these contests for ages, and trust me, some spine-chilling masterpieces have emerged from the shadows!
The rules are simple yet devilishly delightful:
- Must be a top-notch horror story that’ll make our bones shiver.
- Keep it within a bone-chilling 50 words or less.
- It should be a complete tale that leaves us screaming for more.
- Don’t let the clock strike midnight; submit before the witching hour on October 25, 2023.
- Feel the darkness in your soul? Excellent! Enter as many stories as your twisted imagination conjures!
The prizes are spine-chillingly thrilling: The most bloodcurdling tale will win the ultimate promotion package: One terrifying ad campaign. An email blast that’ll send shivers down spines. A nightmarish presence on all our social networks. Plus, your eerie epic will be enshrined on our haunted site!
Don’t be scared; it’s as easy as conjuring a ghost. Leave your 50-word slice of horror in the comments below. I’m practically trembling with anticipation!
Remember, you can enter as many times as your nightmares allow! Dare you accept the challenge?
Enter your soul eating stories below!
Follow him on Twitter, and check out our Submissions page.
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The cursed mirror I bought at the estate sale reflected a distorted figure. I smashed it in terror, but the fragments still showed that grotesque form. Panicking, I ran outside, and in every puddle, window, and glass, that twisted reflection grinned back at me, beckoning me into its nightmarish world.
Josh M – Short but creepy enough to scare and sets the tone for a grisly tale,. It is hard to have only 50 words to do this kind of writing, but you have a great submission!
Tip tap, sounded the keys of the keyboard, as the writer frantically documented the images that had been ingrained in their mind through the evil force that now stood behind them. They would be released from this evil spell when the very last letter of the story was complete.
Stranded in the dark, blue ocean, where the waves were raging, she swam for two days and two nights and her muscles were aching. A set of two piercing eyes approached her from behind – a creature that lurks is not a good sign. She screamed and then… she woke up.
Dinner plans for six had been banjaxed going on two weeks now. Rotten food covered the table. The stench of decaying corpse filled the air as flashing lightning revealed the Gremlin on the table, carefully studying the shotgun he had ripped off the wall in the den two weeks earlier.
Deep in the dark, moldy boiler room, sitting lifelessly on a shelf, is an old wooden marionette. The closest thing resembling life are its glass eyes, where you can see heartbreak…
…and unbridled rage.
The red glow from the boiler fire reflects in its eyes as they start to move.
Abraham looked through his telescope at the night sky and the universe beyond.
“Anything is possible,” he said.
He lowered the lens to the city. Miles away, down an alleyway, he saw a grotesque humanoid creature feeding on a woman. Then it looked at Abraham and hissed.
“Impossible!” Abraham exclaimed.
The graverobber opened the casket of a random woman’s old skeletal corpse, removing the ring from her bony finger. He went home and gifted his wife with it. She happily went to bed wearing it that night.
The next morning, he found her dead. She looked exactly like the corpse.
“Guess who did it,” Clive says. I look at him, Sissy, then back at him. The murderous look in his eyes pushes me to reply. “C-Clive, it was you,” I stutter. But Sissy picks up the ax on the floor and I know every possible choice was incorrect. “Wrong answer!”
“Tell me again why I’m here?” Martha glanced around, skeptically.
“Told you I wanted a girl with brains,” Timmy replied.
“You’ve never looked at me twice,” Martha cocked an eyebrow. “What changed?”
“Remember Tommy?”
“Didn’t he…”
Before she could finish, a cold hand grasped her as a voice garbled, “BRAINS!”
A headline interrupted my morning tea and avocado toast. “GiantFoods bombshell: Charred human bone flakes give GiantTea the earthy taste.” The tea dribbled over my lips back to the cup. I bit the toast to cleanse my mouth. “We leveraged learning from years of grinding bones for our bread.”
“I woke up to hear knocking sounds on glass.
At first I thought it was window glass but it was coming from mirror again. “
While playing on my mobile phone, a whisper echoed in my head. My stomach turned as it repeated, “Your dead.”
“No I’m not!” I replied, but in my head I knew better.
“Follow me.”
Defiantly I cried, “Hell No!”
Death chuckled, “Hell Yes! I claim your soul! Now let’s go!”
I know she and Greg are not at the office like she said. That’s ok, because she thinks I’m working late too.
But instead I’m hiding in the closet, waiting. The long axe handle feels hard, strong, like I wish I could be.
I hear them coming in, laughing.
Soon
When my grandparents passed, they left me the doll I had always loved, but something seemed different with it like it was alive. When I went to sleep, I’d thought I heard it say something, and when I woke up that morning, I swear I was looking at myself asleep.
Everything is perfect in my life. Parents together, dog always smiling, and me in top condition. How you might ask it’s because I made them perfect. And because everything’s perfect no one leaves me, and that makes everything better. I owe it all to an axe, thread, and a needle.
It was a stormy night just after 10:00 pm , as the lightening flashes and the thunder claps the pictures on the wall shake. Just then the power goes out and it’s totally darkness all around. I heard a strange unfamiliar sounds. It wasn’t the rain falling but of the undead had just raised.
The baby grand piano, there it sits in the parlor. The keys that were once white now stained with blood from the finger tips of all who came to play a single tune. The baby grand an Omen to the devil and his spawns by taken the souls of anyone.
Winners will be announced tomorrow on Halloween.
I haven’t entered one of these before, but your enthusiasm is infectious. You say spine-chilling masterpieces have emerged from the shadows? I’m ready to throw my hat (or perhaps, skull) in the ring and see if my twisted mind can compete.