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 Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]

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Gray

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Name : Gray Starks
Epithet : The Conqueror (Formerly "Black Fist")
Age : 49
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PostSubject: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Tue Oct 31, 2017 12:19 am


HALLOWEEN 2017! Short Story Contest!


Since this is our first Halloween with a substantial number of RPers that aren't missing for the season, we will be celebrating this ominous time by creating and sharing some horrifying stories.



How to play?


To participate in the contest, you must reply in this thread with a short story (1000 to 4000 words). This story will be non-canonical and must involve your character in a horror-themed situation. It can be either a nightmare scenario or an alternate universe scenario. It doesn't matter. For the sake of this contest, you do not need to be concerned with any game systems (such as the combat system, dice rolls, etc.). Your reply should be done within a single post.

Additionally, your character does not need to be approved or even completed for you to participate in this contest.

As with any horror stories, there should be some limitations and safe words here. Please refrain from overly gory scenes in your stories, as that is beyond the realm of the One Piece universe. Spooky is what I'm hoping for, as opposed to downright disturbing.

The contest will close on Saturday, November 18, 2017 12:00 AM EST. Once the contest closes, a poll will be held where you will have the chance to vote on the story you enjoyed reading the most. Depending on how many votes you get, you may win a prize. Additionally, there is also a participation prize of 5 million berries.

Prizes


Participation Prize: 5,000,000 berries

For the following prizes to be available, at least 8 participants must've submitted stories.
First place (most votes): Horror-themed mythical zoan devil fruit of your choice. (Must be approved by staff)
Second place: Horror-themed tier 4 equipment piece of your choice. (Must be approved by staff)
Third place: A big bag of candy. (10,000,000 berries)

In the case of a tie, a lottery will be drawn for those in the same position. The losers of the lottery will be moved down to the next place.


Good luck to you all and enjoy yourselves! Having fun with it is the entire point of the event~






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PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Tue Oct 31, 2017 2:09 am

There once was a story. No, really! I couldn't believe it myself. A story. Once upon a time! But seriously, this story isn't a joke. While there have been stories to bring fear over sleeping, blinking, breathing, eating. This one is all too real. While there's been various versions of the story with ridiculous names to each, this story begins has one unchanging lesson: Do not lie to the Iceman. Versions of this called him the Ice Cream Man, Frosty and other various ice-themed names. It always ignored what it meant.

Killer. The one guy you want to beg for forgiveness from. The one guy you want to keep your first baby unborn for. The one guy you don't ever want to cheat, to lie to, to wrong. You don't ever want the Iceman to have his eyes on you. You don't want to be like the hearty family man of four who cheated him out of a life. You don't want to be the judge who took a bit of cash to slide a case out of a certain someone's favor. Do not tread on the Iceman's feet or anyone who has a roll of cash gift-wrapped for him with your name on it.

Moral of the story, don't become another version of the Iceman story.


Adrian looked into the mirror of the dingy hotel bathroom, rinsing his face as he thought about the scars patterning it. He had been posted in Loguetown for about a week. He wasn't going to be remembered by anyone from his time living there, which made his job much easier. Tasked with finding an AWOL marine, he spent the past week familiarizing himself with the local scene once more. He already identified the marine who left with valuable intel. To keep himself from being recognized by the marine, he decided not to wear his uniform.

During the week he took to collect information, he learned three important things: the target always spent an hour at a coffee shop that made healthy payments to keep itself protected; the target slept in the same hotel as him in the room directly below his; the target fancied a petite blonde lady and based on conversations, had been seeing her for months now that was around five-foot-five-inches and one-hundred-twenty pounds. She was the daughter of a gang-lord running that part of Loguetown. Once Adrian was dressed, he left his room and transitioned into the coffee shop down the street.

The target didn't take long to arrive, ordering the same thing he has been for a week. Not long after, his lover appeared and ordered something similar. Adrian made sure to keep a wide ear near them, listening in on their conversation.

"Hey babe, are you ready for tonight? Hm? I hope your father doesn't mind me keeping you out a bit late..." the blonde giggled and spoke softly to soothe him. The former marine was clearly a little anxious, which made sense since the lady's father was a crime-lord. "No worries, hun! He LOVES you. In fact, by the end of the night I'll have a wonderful surprise for you..." The target shifted himself likely having an overly-sexual takeaway. "Oh, dear! Once I finish my bagel, I'll go take care of my errands and make sure my day's clear!" Little did the poor girl know, he's been undressing Adrian as they've had their eyes locked for the whole conversation.

It didn't help that the ageless man teased him with a cone of ice cream. All it took was puppy-dog eyes and a lewd display of eating some ice cream and the man was hooked. Adrian didn't take long to finish his cone before leaving the coffee shop. The conversation after mentioning their plans was monotonous and the man already finished his bagels. It took confidence, but Adrian was sure he was going to be followed.

Adrian stood outside of his room, and there the man was. The former marine gripped himself with confidence. Disgusting. Such an animal...so giddy and not realizing how luck he is. The two entered Adrian's room. While he could have ended it there, he knew the intel was hidden in Loguetown and not in the man's actual room. This was a long game and he had to play it. Now for the short game.




While the second in heaven for the man was definitely a disappointment came true, Adrian kept it going for an hour. Covered by the blanket and smoking next to the man, he watched as the traitor slept. The one line that haunted him was when the man first embraced Adrian. In the heat of the moment, the man said, "Oh...damaged. I love damaged boys. Makes it easier to break them." Adrian knew most saw his appearance as either freakish from his scars or adolescent from his lack of aging.

This man was someone who likely exploited his marine powers and was now become what he fit. A pirate. As Adrian watched, he let the man sleep before slipping out. The target slept very comfortably too, unable to hear the fumbling Adrian had to do before leaving the room. The man enjoyed himself, despite cheating on his lover who he was SO excited to spend time with for the night. When he finally awoke, it had been hours later. Checking the clock on the night-stand, he realized he only had an hour to get washed and dressed for his date.

The man rushed downstairs, finding his door wide open. "Fuck...little shit broke into my room." Entering the room, he found it destroyed and red paint on the wall above the bed. It was one word, "ICEMAN". Panicking, he focused on preparing for the date. Once he was clean and well-dressed, he left for his lover's home. It was not too far away, but he couldn't help but worry with each step. The single word on his wall was ominous, which meant the marines finally sent someone after him.

As per the plan, he brought the intel with him. His job was to hand it off to the girl's father and he would let him take his daughter. As he arrived, it had been pretty quiet. It was a grand manor, one of few on the island. The traitor viewed the beautiful garden being maintained and the elegant fountains with statues carved to look like his lovers' father. Ringing the doorbell, it took a while for someone to answer.

After a few minutes of waiting and ringing, his lover answered the door. "Hun! I'm soooo glad you're here!" She closed the distance, embracing the former marine with a tight hug. "Babe! You look beautiful...as usual. But, uh, are you okay? You look a little out of it." His lover pouted, her cheeks protruding with an odd exaggeration. "Well, I'll have you know I'm quite healthy! Come on, set the package on the table over there and we'll spend some time in my room." Excited for what was coming, the man set the package he brought on a coffee table as the girl led him up-stairs.

"Hey, where is everyone?" The girl turned to look at him, her face a bit crooked. She turned away very quickly and skipped along the hall and towards her room. "Oh, I had them leave! I convinced them there was this BIG MEANIE who groped me after you left! He coincidentally lives ALLLL the way across town! In reality, I just know him as one of my old school bullies. Serves him right!" Chuckling, the man followed the girl into her room. It was dimly lit by candles lining the bedroom. Rose petals flooded her bed and there was a record player going on with a hearty tun (The Song).

Removing her dress to reveal lingerie and smooth skin, the man couldn't help but notice stitches on the back of her neck. She strutted erotically onto the bed, laying down. "Babe, what's that on your neck? What happened?" Giggling, the girl rolled across the bed elegantly and pulled a bottle of wine from out of the pillow. "Don't worry about it, hun. I told you I had a surprise!"

"Heh, yeah. I just didn't expect...this. And so early, too! Do you want me to cancel the reservation?" Shaking her head, the girl removed herself from the bed. "No, I think I'll have time to finish up here." Embraced by her lover, the man kissed her forehead. "Oh? And will I be there too?" "Mmmm....I don't think so." They both laughed, but then there was an awkward silence between them.

The man stared into his girl's eyes long and lovingly. After what felt like a million moments, he noticed that her skin drooped a bit over her left eye. He ignored it, it might have been something he didn't know about. Putting a hand on her face, he felt a slight smush, which was odd but he still continued on. Suddenly picking her up, he threw her on the bed suddenly. She yelped and laughed, immediately sitting up and putting a hand on his waist.

"Oh, babe...I've been waiting for this. I've been saving myself for so long and it's finally going to be worth it." She giggled, turning away as she blushed. "Oh really? You haven't been lookin' at anyone? Not even the dime pieces?" "Girl, you're the only dime piece to me." They locked eyes again and she winked at him. "Hun, you really shouldn't lie." "What? Why would I be lying to Giorgio's daughter?"

Pushing him to the ground, she stood up with the wine bottle in hand. Pressing on her throat, she appeared much angrier. With a much manlier voice, "she" boomed at him, "I said you shouldn't lie. You shouldn't lie to the Iceman." Fiddling with the back of "her" neck, "she" seemed to peel off "her" flesh to reveal it was, in fact, Adrian. There were spots of red, but he made sure to do a good job with cleaning the mask. The man could only scream, but there wasn't anyone left in the house to hear.

No, they were all "asleep" in the basement. Lured by the daughter who was heartbroken to hear how Adrian took him before she could. How she would never be able to take him because he made a mistake. She collected her father and his goons to prepare to take out Adrian and then hunt the unfaithful man. The only thing they found was the Iceman. Now, the traitorous marine found the Iceman too. The last thing he'll ever come to know.

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Baltroy

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Name : Alice Baltroy Ronx
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Berries : 8,300,000

Posts : 71

PostSubject: Taking Chester's Candy   Tue Oct 31, 2017 6:34 am







Trick or Treat~







Taking Chester's Candy

“It’s really their loss if they don’t want to come,” said Ronx to himself, perhaps a little too loudly considering the dark, empty street he currently strode along.

His voice was slightly muffled, courtesy of the plastic fangs jammed into his gums and his lips were glossed over with liquid red dripping down to his chin. His typical fancy suit was swapped with an extra fancy suit in commemoration of what was arguably the young revolutionary’s favourite day of the year. Golden clasps adorned his collar and he wore a black tuxedo, which fashioned a subtle purple hue. His shoulders were still wrapped by his trademark mantle, of which he had taken upon himself to stitch a clumsy golden spider on the back—something he would ultimately be forced to take out on account of it being so ugly that a certain bedazzling fishman refused to allow it to remain a part of the crew. The final touch to his outfit was the plastic jack-o-lantern bucket he swung proudly in his hand. Sure he might be a decade or so older than the common trick-or-treat demographic, but this was hardly something that was going to deter a candy-loving maniac. Besides, the street was completely empty, so one could argue that the “common trick-or-treat demographic” was really just him.

“What kind of Halloween would it be if we didn’t go trick-or-treating?” asked Ronx, continuing his monologue.

This question was promptly answered by the screech of a bat flying overhead and the caw of a lone crow, followed by a wolf’s howl that really wasn’t as distant as some might have preferred it to be. Sure it wasn’t the company the young man had been expecting, but he was content with the world and what he had, even if it involved the ominous calls of predatory creatures. Nevertheless, the haplessly happy man had only a single goal in mind: to reap as much candy as he possibly could before curfew rolled around (which was absolutely necessary or he would be out long after midnight). A frosty breeze passed through the street, sweeping up an array of fallen leaves and tousling Ronx’s hair as it did so. He lifted his hand to defend against a leaf that had taken upon itself to assault the man.

When his hand fell away, he noticed a shadowed figure a few steps in front of him. The figure faced the path that Ronx walked, standing on the grass with his toes barely touching the concrete and hung his head low. As Ronx neared, he noticed the figure wore a ragged black cloak and an iron collar around his neck with a severed chain attached to it. The figure stood at the size of a small child with thick black fog clotting at his feet and barely reached up to Ronx’s waist. With his face turned downward, Ronx couldn’t identify any notable facial features.

“Good evening,” said Ronx, an almost reflexive greeting that slipped out without any consideration from his part.

He was met with only silence and so he proceeded to pass the child. He had walked several paces past the figure when he spoke, “You walk a dangerous path, young man.” What was perhaps more haunting than the words he spoke, was his voice. Unlike the child he had initially appeared to be, his voice was rough and deep, a tone strikingly similar to that of a gong. At the same time, it was sharp and seemed to crack under the weight of age. Ronx turned to scrutinise him with an inquisitive gaze, only to find the area the figure had previously occupied was now empty, the black fog having disappeared too.

Shrugging, Ronx turned back to the path he walked, only to find himself facing a set of iron gates that clearly hadn’t been there before. Beyond the gates was a massive mansion, poised like a dark nobleman with his chin lifted in a condescending manner. Black fog encompassed the base of the mansion and wrapped around the yellow-stained walls. Long ivy crept up the side of the mansion, battling with a blanket of moss glowing with subtle ethereal yellow. Every window that checkered the mansion’s walls were pitch dark with the exception of a single window to the left of the second floor, where a sickly green light flickered from within. Seeing the mansion suddenly appear, Ronx was forced to pause and take a step back from his former festive-ridden outlook.

“How curious,” he finally uttered after a moment of blank consideration.

Even for Ronx, there was a certain limit to his tolerance for creepy, suspicious things before better reason started to reach for the reigns. If it was up to his better reasons, Ronx would promptly walk away from the sinister sight, but there was one big problem. Thanks to the manifestation of the mansion, the path was now at an abrupt end and so if Ronx were to walk away, it would mean the end of his trick-or-treat adventure. Now, better reason was saying something about a short-lived adventure being far more appealing than being devoured by a mansion (perhaps a bit dramatic, but when isn’t better reason not dramatic?). On the other hand, questionable reason seemed pretty reluctant to go home without even a single piece of candy in the jack-o-lantern, which (he adds) is also pretty unacceptable.

“Truly unacceptable,” agreed Ronx, just as a colossal black cloud loomed over the mansion and thunder rumbled from its core.

He paused to stare up at the clouds with his shining amber eyes, before taking a bold step forward and grasping the thick poles of the gate. The gates swung open with an ear-piercing screech and slammed abruptly shut once he passed through them. The path winding up to the mansion was narrow and lined with dead, grey trees. As Ronx made his way up to the door, a murder of black crows flocked the trees, drilling their beaded gaze into his back as he passed them. The second he stopped before the towering black doors, pouring rain descended from the clouds, as though to seal off the path he had come from. Ronx turned to watch the rain fall, a moment of hesitation nursing the seed of doubt rapidly finding its way into the blood of his veins.

A boom sounded along with a line of lightning racing across the sky and Ronx spun around to see the doors flung open. A thin woman stood under the doorframe, wearing a black victorian-style gown with a black veil thrown across her face. Her hands, skeletal and heavily wrinkled, were clasped in front of her stomach and her grey hair was swept back into a tight governess’s bun.
“Uh,” stammered Ronx, grasping for words. His eyes fell on his candy bucket and he promptly lifted it to the woman’s face. “Trick or treat?” A tiny girl’s giggle sounded from within the mansion and another chill ran down Ronx’s spine. “On second thought,” he said quickly, deciding it was best to retreat. “I think it’s my curfew. Bye.”

“Why the hurry?”
whispered the woman, her voice like chalk gliding across a blackboard. “We have plenty of candy. It will only take a minute and then you can be on your way.”

Ronx was clearly torn, but even the lure of candy was starting to feel less tempting. In this kind of situation, he hardly even remembered the taste of it and as though to read his mind, the governess reached into the folds of her skirt and drew out a piece of candy wrapped elegantly in pink. Seeing it, Ronx’s eyes immediately brightened and he reached hungrily for it. Just as his fingers touched the small piece of candy, the governess’s fingers curled over it and snatched it away.

“Why…?” whimpered Ronx, his golden eyes peering sadly up at the woman.

“There’s more inside,” she replied, a hint of amusement in her cold, monotonous tone. “Would you like to see?”

“Would I?” asked Ronx, his face immediately lifting and he fidgeted eagerly. “I sure would!”

A glimpse of a smile flickered on the woman’s hidden face, revealing creamy red lipstick staining her lips. “Excellent, follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Ronx, cheerfully saluting and he followed the governess into the mansion.

The doors swung shut lightly and the governess lit a lantern from the table beside her before they could become engulfed in darkness.

“Why aren’t any of the lights on?” asked Ronx curiously, hardly a hint of fear in voice. The single piece of candy hardly the size of a pebble had done an excellent job at chasing away any remnants of doubt harboured by his better reason.

“Just a power outage,” murmured the governess. “Nothing to worry yourself over.”

Ronx nodded in response. They passed through a hall and at the end, Ronx noticed the child-like figure from earlier. Its face was now turned up towards him a giant crescent-moon grin painted across its face, giggling girlishly. Shadows fell over its entire face, only the grin shining from the darkness.

“That’s Chester,” said the governess grimly. “Just ignore her.”

She led him further into the mansion, passing portraits with eyes that seemed to follow them. The longer they walked, the more Ronx was starting to feel his doubts return. “I...I really have to go home,” he said, hesitantly.

“I understand, Alice,” said the governess, stopping and turning to face him. “We’re here now.”

They were standing next to a door and she pushed it open with both hands. Ronx turned to peek into the room, only to stop and turn back to her, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “How do you know my name?”

Another red smile flashed from under the veil and Chester’s shrill giggle quickly escalated and filled the hall. Ronx took a fearful step back, glancing into the room as he did so. His eyes widened. Inside, the room was filled entirely with candy, but for the first time ever, he took in this sight with a horrified gasp. Every piece of candy in the room was shaped like children, all posed to run or frozen in fear, their faces twisted in alarm.

Ronx backed away from the room, bumping into Chester who had come up from behind him. He turned to face her, his jack-o-lantern falling loudly to the ground as he took in her giant grin—which had considerably grown—and cattish red eyes floating in the shadows that still obstructed her face.

“You walked a dangerous path, young man."


***

“That idiot; it’s way past curfew,” grumbled a certain fishman, stomping down the eerily quiet street. “I told him ten o’clock at the latest. If he dares to say he thought I meant ten in the morning, I’ll skin him.”

“You walk a dangerous path, young man,” a voice said and the fishman froze, having passed the hunched figure without noticing its presence in his angry rant.

“What…?” snapped the fishman, glaring at the black fog that swamped at the figures face, but only a tiny smile revealed itself before the figure faded before his eyes. Shaking his head, the fishman turned back to his path, only to come face to face with the sinister mansion. He paused, taking in the sight before abruptly turning back the way he had come. “Yeah, stuff that.”

***

“Zizizizizizi,” Chester giggled, rolling around the floor of her room. She rolled to a stop, laying on her stomach and propped her elbows on the floor to cradle her chin. She stared lovingly up at her newest collection: a wonderful blonde noble with a magnificent mantle wrapped around his shoulders. His face was frozen in an expression of shock, his mouth slightly agape. She thought he was beyond beautiful.

“Yes, this year was good,” she murmured, wriggling forward until she stopped at the noble’s feet. “Ah, I can’t wait until next year...Zizizizizi~”




cait at btn





________________________________________________________
Alice B. Ronx at your service~

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Maxwell

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Name : Richard Maxwell
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Age : 47
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Level : 57
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PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Tue Oct 31, 2017 8:19 am

A moonless night stretched over a nameless road. Somewhere along said road crackled a lonely campfire, casting little light in the shadows of the forest. Weary travelers had gathered around, keeping each other company with tales from their travels. Fact or fiction, it hardly mattered as anything was better than sitting in silence. When the soft sound of footsteps against dirt approached, their suspicious glances turned towards a latecomer. Unusual to see anyone wandering around this late, wouldn’t you agree?

Stepping into the light, the quiet figure was revealed to be a sharp-dressed man. From his hand hung a suitcase three sizes too large for his thin frame. The wide brim of his hat was tugged so low that the shadow hid all hints of his visage. A cheap cigarette drew gray wisps in the air. His polite greeting was met with gruff grunts of much the same, the distrust still lingering. Yet none could handle the creeping silence, not tonight when it felt every shadow had eyes. Share a story, they asked. The stranger took a seat all by himself on a rotting stump. "A story, you say?" The scratchy voice repeated, pondering the prospect out loud. A chill wind whispered in the trees. "Well, I do have one in mind. Fitting for the occasion, I’d say." The smoke from the campfire mixed with the gray haze leaving his breath.

"Let me tell you a story of a man who cheated the Devil."

This story takes us back a hundred years, to a time when myths and legends seemed just a little bit closer. Our hero -no matter how ill-fitting the word- is a thief traveling the world, the greatest or worst ever depending on who you ask. From gambling to pick-pocketing and robbery, there was no sin of greed he hadn’t committed. They said he could steal the king's’ crown from his head in the middle of a public speech. Many a story has been weaved from his incredible adventures. This one, however, isn’t about his triumphs. No, this is the tale of the single time he ever got caught. See, that’s the thing about thieving... You have to get lucky every time, but the other side only has to get lucky once.

It was a simple heist, a tad too simple perhaps. Just a quick trip to some noblewoman’s jewel box, something the thief had done a thousand times before. Could’ve been why he got cocky and careless that time. Though to be fair, whoever says hands have nothing to do with hearing has never had their hands full of gold and gems. The poor fellow didn’t catch the door behind him sliding open, the dainty footsteps against the silk carpet or the flower vase swishing through the air. Those things are surprisingly heavy, hard, leave a grown man seeing stars.

By the time our so-called hero regained his senses, he was locked deep in the dirtiest dungeon of the city among with the rest of the rats. Days dragged by without so much as a crumb of food or drop of water. When he felt his breath growing too heavy to bear, he finally found a glimmer of hope. Well, perhaps it found him. And hope was an awful strong word it... In a flicker of candle flame he noticed a stranger standing at the other side of the iron bars. Wrapped in a pitch-black coat of soot, he had the body of a goat and the face of a rat. In a voice that crawled down one’s spine the stranger offered a bargain, promised to open the locks and ensure the unfortunate man would escape. And in return he only asked for one, simple thing... A soul. To be collected when the deal was complete.

With nothing left to lose, the thief accepted the deal. Laughter like crackling of flames echoed and suddenly the stranger was nowhere to be seen. At midnight, just as promised, the rattling of locks filled the moldy prison. A shadow passed through the dim hallways and one by one the doors burst open. Every sinner of the dark dungeon flew into a blind rage, taking out their hatred on the guards. With desperate vigor the thief joined the fray. Barely he clawed his way back to the surface, fortunately finding his belongings along the way. Finally free, he fled the dungeon and escaped into the cold night.

However, as the gasping sinner came to a stop at the shade of a nearby cornfield, the deal was still fresh in his mind. Right on the thought he spotted a familiar shadow moving in the corner of his eye, rustling through the growing crops. Just as promised... The Devil was there to collect. But the man wasn’t quite ready to go. Wait, he suddenly pleaded and produced a handful of dice. Wouldn’t the Lord of Lies allow one more gamble? Humor a mortal fool one last time? If he won, he would be free to go, but if he lost then the Devil could claim the soul of his dear, old mother as well. Just a simple bet, the highest roll would take it all. The Devil scratched his long beard before his sharp teeth twisted into a gruesome smile. It was a deal then.

The thief was the first to go, kneeling down and rolling against the dirt. One had to squint to see the results, but... three, four, six, quite decent one could imagine and a difficult number to beat. Yet the Devil had a way of getting his dues. Cupping the dice between the bony hands, he took his time, savoring the creeping despair. The thrown dice skipped once, twice before finally settling down in what felt like a flash of eternity. Looming over the ivory cubes, the King of Sinners merely pretended to count carefully for he already knew the results. Each number echoed in that chilling voice. Six, six and six...

Having gambled and lost, the petrified thief made no attempt to escape. Not even a peep left his thin frame as the bony claw reached out to take what no mortal could touch. Yet  suddenly bewilderment and rage washed over the Devil. What in the dark he had thought to be the lanky man turned out to be a mere scarecrow with the thief’s hat and garments hastily draped over it. And the thief himself was long gone.


With the story drawing to a close, the stranger took another slow drag before flicking the burned remains aside. "They say the Devil still wanders the seas and the lands in search of the one soul that escaped him. On moonless nights just like this, he appears in a flicker of flames before liars, thieves and murderers." A collective shudder traveled through the rest of the group. Slowly, the bony fingers reached upwards, prodding the hat’s brim out of the way. Beady, black eyes gleamed in the dancing flames, accompanied by filthy fur and twisted whiskers. Word by word, his voice warped into a guttural growl.

"And his face looks just... like... THIS."

After the heartbeat of a pause it took for the terror to sink in, the travelers bolted from their seats and ran screaming into the inky night. Left behind, or staying more like, the rat-faced man chuckled to himself, all too pleased with the abandoned spoils. Food, equipment, money… Never before had it been this easy to rob superstitious travelers. Itching aside, the mask had been a wonderful investment. Paid itself back tenfold already. He couldn’t wait to start sorting through the fresh loot. And that’s when he felt the touch on his shoulder, fingers like bones picked clean tightening in a vice grip. A voice like shards of brimstone scraping together crawled down his spine.

"̧̨͉̖̬͔͍̲̪̗͕F̳̙̯̱̤̤͙̲̺͇̲ǫ̧̺͎͍͍̥͙̯͙u̧͚͔̮̪̳̯̜̯ͅņ̭̝̻̥̦͖̤͇͖ḏ̬͎͖͖̼̯̣̰̮̪ ̧̡̩̥̦̠͔͇͎̫͈y̨͕̳̘͈͎̱̞̙͜o͖̖̬̯̘͙̼̯̝̫̬u̧̖̳̼̞̱̜̙̝̱̮.͖̳̗̦͇͚̲̰̭̼̥"̣̲̦̦̝̭̻̺͕̘͔

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Wanted Dead or Alive: Richard 'Plague Rat' Maxwell
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Howai

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Name : Tanaka Howai
Epithet : Dorobō
Age : 20
Race : Human
Faction : New Revolutionary Army
Crew : Bonbon X
Ship : Wonderland Hatch
Crew Position : Head cook
Devil Fruit : Hana Hana no Mi
Haoshoku : 0
Busoshoku | Kenbunshoku : 4
Attack (ATK) : 220
Defense (DEF) : 220
Reflex (RX) : 340
Willpower (WP) : 250
Level : 40
Experience Points : 4000
Berries : 8,050,000
Posts : 41

PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Sat Nov 04, 2017 5:06 pm

Halloween 2017!
Short Story Contest
Tanaka Howai
A cute girl, who has a propensity for pickpocketing

The day didn't start well for Howai. First, she had a nightmare and then when they were on the island she lost her captain somehow. All they wanted, was to find a treasure on the mysterious
Deer Island. So they split into groups of 2, but she had the „luck“ to lose sight of her partner.
The head cook walked along the lonely street, looking for Alice.
„It's the same every time.“  she said annoyed. „You look for a second away and swuussh... Gone“  
Around her were just trees and it was getting darker. The shadows got longer and the woods fell silent... too silent. Howai could hear every crackling noise, but there weren't any of them.
The initial anger about his leaving went and fear of being alone in the dark overcame her.
„A-Alice? It's not funny anymore. P-Please, come out!“  … Nothing... Slowly she went further. There was no one to be seen anywhere. 10 minutes passed until she reached finally a crossroad. To the left side: The same long road through this silent forest like behind her. To the right side: …
an old house? How can that be? It was told that on this Island no one lives, but on the upper floor, she saw a light. This weak and flickering light could be from a candle, but Howai wasn't sure about that. „It must be Alice, who is in there.“ Howai took all her courage to go in the house.
She could hear his feet thudding along the corridor and started to go in the direction of the noise. Suddenly the door jammed behind her and the small girl couldn't stifle a high pitched scream. With fast steps, she went back to the door and tried to open it, but she couldn't. She was locked in...
„Ähm Alice?“ she asked. No one replied and the footsteps weren't heard anymore. So when the door is locked, she has to find another way out. Howai stood in a long corridor with a staircase on the right side, a closed door on each side and one on the end. On the upper floor, it was darker than before. The was no trace of the light to be seen, so she decided to check the doors. Behind the left door was a kitchen with a window and another door. It smelled bad and everywhere were cobwebs.
Hectic she tried to open the window. She looked through the glass and couldn't more than trees and big red eyes in front of the window. With a scare, Howai fell backward to the ground. She looked back to the window, but the eyes weren't seen anymore. Howai gave up to open the window out of fear and went through the other door. This roomed seemed to be the living room, but the only interesting object was a big mirror.  As she looked closer in the mirror she could see the door, which led back to the corridor, behind her. In the door stood Alice with a big grin on his face. „Damn you, Alice, you frightened me almost to death!“ With these words, she turned round to look at her captain, but there was nobody. She ran to the corridor, but there wasn't anyone too. Noone, no sign, no footsteps, nothing... She began to have slight misgivings about herself. It couldn't be that hallucination look that realistic. Back in the corridor, she tried to open the last door, but it was locked like the front door. Through a small window on the upside of the front door moonlight fell on the ground.
Upstairs the flickering light was seen again. Howai sighed and moved slowly upstairs. „Please god. let it finally be over! I want out of here.“ As she reached the end of the staircase that there were only two doors.  Apparently, the light emanated from the room to her right. In this room was nothing, accept a small table with a candlestick on it.  The candle has nearly burnt down. It was pleasant to look at the flame. This put her mind at ease. „Alice, where are you?“ she said to herself. At this moment she heard the laugh of children behind her and she turned around. And again, like the other hallucination: the children were nowhere to be seen. Just the other door. As she reached out to open it, she saw a shadow crossing the wall with a children laugh coming out the room with the candle...
Slowly she turned her head to look in the candle room. Nothing... Howai got headaches. Was she losing her mind? What is this house? Then she opened the last remaining door. Darkness. Not a single shred of light and in the same moment as the door was opened, the candle behind Howai burnt down completely. She couldn't see anything and the fear inside her became bigger and bigger.
Beside her, she heard someone breathe deeply and rhythmically. The young woman was paralyzed and couldn't move an inch. The breathing became louder and closer. As slow as she could do it, Howai turned her head to the side. Someone was beside her and she could just see the white teeth. It was a toothy grin, from one ear to another, even wider than a normal face. The Stranger opened his eyes and looked at her with big red eyes... and then: Darkness...
With a loud scream, she woke up in her cabin on the Wonderland Hatch. Was it just a dream? It was a relief to be at the Hatch again and not in this scary house anymore.  Oliver opened the door. „What happened?“ she asked quickly.
„Oh, ähm sorry, just a nightmare.“ replied Howai and brushed her hair behind her ear. She tried to control it, but with mediocre results.
Oliver sighed. „You shouldn't sleep that long. Get ready! We're almost at Deer Island“ she mentioned the name in passing and left her alone. For a moment Howai didn't know what to do. Deer Island? Wasn't it just a dream? Finally, she stood up and went to her mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't believe the evidence of her eyes.
The mirror image began to grin at her and the color of the eyes changed to... RED...

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Butch Castle

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Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haoshoku : 0
Busoshoku | Kenbunshoku : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000

Posts : 78

PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Fri Nov 10, 2017 3:54 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS 1310 TAGS I’m not a contestant. POST COUNT 5 ❚


Once upon a time,
There was a lazy mime.
He had a pet slime
Who simply couldn’t rhyme.

The mime had lost his voice
To a mob of eerie toys.
They left him but one choice;
So a hunter would rejoice.

The hunter named Castle
Would prey with so much hassle,
Toys who were not so facile
To be found without a tassel.

The subtle whistling of the kettle grew sharper. What idjit brews tea on a barbeque? And when the moon is out and the sun is sunk?

The entire horror-themed set-up of the front yard looked like some discount shop’s attempt at festive decorations. A paper cutout of a scarecrow; a raw, green pumpkin carved by a four-year-old, no doubt; a rusty iron bucket full of cheap five-berry-candies—the vessel’s flaky and crumpling skin was a more horrific sight than any decor around it. The plastic-like ground that formed the yard was no help in improving the atmosphere either.

As wary steps brought him closer to the playful-brown door of the bright-blue dollhouse-like mansion, the young hunter shivered. A cold breeze drowned him as if it were the exhale of death itself. This might’ve been remotely chilling if it were not for the frugal furbelow.

With a firm and confident grip he turned the door handle only to be surprised by the lack of resistance. He knew not why he’d hoped to be impeded here short of his base instinct bidding him so. When the door opened as smoothly and quietly as a snake on the prowl, he wished it had creaked instead. The inner critic in him only judged it a poor horror prop for not satisfying that cliché.

The pair of doors opened into a grand foyer, a neon green carpet leading up to a flight of stairs which split in two. It was dark all around, only the dim glimmer of the fake diamonds in the chandelier and the radium-like glow of the carpet illuminating his path. The wall to the left seemed darker than the right, and yet the young hunter felt as if a restless gaze peered at him through that portal of void. Upon the crossroads on the stairs, where most mansions might house a statue or the like, was a splintered square box.

Despite the cheapness of the spectacle, every passing moment worsened an uncanny feeling of constriction around him. With every step, he felt more and more as if a long and fat serpent coiled around him, squeezing him gently yet with utter dominance, its head hovering over behind him. And this very serpent seemed to be what dragged him forward on this brightly lit green path.

He stopped before the black-and-yellow chequered box. A big red button on its side with a sloppy “push me” written on it. “As if I’d fall for such an obvious trap.” He mumbled to no one in particular. But, before he could turn to his right and follow the green-brickless-road further, the invisible serpent bridled him, instead guiding his hand towards the button. A short squeeze led to a loud pop and a sharp squeak; the squeeze from the button, the pop from what hid within the box, and the squeak from the hunter.

A dusty signboard swung back and forth with the word “Jack” written on it with wild brush strokes in bloody rouge. The hunter sighed and shook his head, a nervous chuckle escaping him at his own wanton curiosity and gutless fright over a lousy prank.

Up the stairs and just short of diving into the blackness of the darker side of the mansion, the hunter spotted a dwarf-sized bat hanging from the ceiling with its thin-skinned wings folded around itself. The bat wore a tailcoat and a bowtie, glaring at him with its beady eyes, its twitchy pig-like snout dripping with snot. The hunter kept his hands firmly set upon his twin revolvers, ready to shoot through the batler butler.

In a thin and wavy voice, the bat spoke. “Welcome to the Hunted House, where the hunter becomes the hunted. If you follow my cousin here, he will lead you to your host, good sir.”

A mountain of meat and muscle wearing a black, fluttering cape emerged from the dark corridor, his frame contorted oddly. He spoke in a deep and heavy voice, only with a lisp. “My name ith Whampire. I will take you to our botthh. Pleathh follow me.” Whampire carried with him a bat (no, the other kind of bat) which he swung about in the air after every few steps as if he were preparing to knock the hunter’s head off.

With the only alternative being to litter Whampire and the butler with bullets and find this boss himself, the hunter obliged the soft-headed chaperone and followed, wondering what other punstar awaited him in this Haunted Hunted House.

They came upon a roomy, gaudy dining hall. Whampire ushered him in before taking his leave, luckily taking his murderous whammy bat with him.

A dark silhouette grunted and growled upon the highway of a buffet, slobbery noises following each grunt. The hunter drew his precious twin revolvers, demanding in a quiet yet inflexible voice. ”Don’t move.”

The figure moved anyway, though in measured turns. With the barrels trained towards the horror, the hunter tracked it closely until the beams of moonlight illuminated his most gracious host. The man-turned-wolf stood erect in a black suit tainted by blood. He was lacking a tail, but his head was undoubtedly canine—soft fur, sharp fangs, twitchy ears, deadly eyes and all.

“You fucking asshole came at the right fucking time. Lord Myself was having a really shitty meal. Lord Me should kill that dickless butler Jack and mount his head where it fucking belongs. Lord Me is guessing you’re here to take this infernal fucking thing from Lord Myself?”

The hunter squinted to see a Den Den Mushi in the wolf-man’s hairy hands. The voice! With a reactive series of trigger presses, the hunter unloaded his silvery bullets into the monstrosity. Well that was easy. The villain collapsed in a pool of fluid which could only be its blood.

Before he could bathe in relief, a screech boomed from the blackness that loomed over the left face of the house. The scream filled the entire mansion as if it came from within a gigantic creature. The serpent which had caught him earlier tightened around him once again. ”That’s not fair! Mr. Swearwolf was supposed to be the main villain! You’ve ruined it all now! They’re my toys! I get to decide what happens to them.”

The hunter searched frantically for the exact origin of the voice. After a nervous pause, he protested, his voice jittery. ”I’m not your toy! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” An unconvinced “huuuh?” blared from the darkness. The voice was a child’s—a girl’s. ”What do you mean? Butch gave you to me to keep! You are my toy now. He said I don’t have to return you!”

The hunter was as confused as he was terrified. And yet a slow and ominous feeling crept up around him, tearing his world asunder. The walls which had distorted his reality and kept him from peering into the abyss finally tore open. The invisible serpent wrapped around him revealed itself to be multiple bony digits. A scarring smile hovered over him as his body was dragged into the dark side of the building until suddenly, he could see a pink, flowery sky and a ground painted with flattened animals.

”Sleepy-time now. You go night-night, Mr. Castle. I’ll play with you tomorrow if you’re good. You don’t want me to lose you in the sand pit again, do you?” Her shrill voice shredded his ears when she spoke again, knocking him into a state of mindless slumber.


❚ Ayu of BTN



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Nova

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Enter Tracker Here Name : Nova Grace Oracle
Epithet : The Flash
Age : 0
Race : Human
Faction : Pirate
Devil Fruit : Pika Pika no Mi
Haoshoku : 0
Busoshoku | Kenbunshoku : 0
Attack (ATK) : 0
Defense (DEF) : 0
Reflex (RX) : 0
Willpower (WP) : 0
Level : 10
Experience Points : 1000
Bounty : 150,000
Berries : 33,700,000
Posts : 24

PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Fri Nov 17, 2017 3:04 am

Upon the day of Halloween, Nova had gone to the store to buy some candy to celebrate the holiday and because she liked candy. However, to her shock and horror, the store did not have any candy but also didn't have anything else. The only thing the store sold was...... brussel sprouts! Nova screamed as she looked around only to find that she was surrounded by the cursed vegetable! As she walked back slowly, she had bumped into someone who spoke in a deep voice, "Hello! May I help you?" She let out a sigh of relief when she had heard the voice of another human being. As she turned around to speak to the man, she had seen something so horrible she had let out another scream.

The man had the head of a brussel sprout! What was this place? Why did the man have a brussel sprout as a head? Most importantly? Why did her town even have a brussel sprout store? For a second, Nova had considered running away only to find that the Brussel man was blocking the door. "Can I help you, ma'am?" He asked once more. "We got brussel sprouts, brussel sprout flavored cake, brussel sprout flavored gum, brussel sprout flavored toothpaste and for Halloween purposes," he paused for a moment before he would take out a small box from his pockets and uttered the scariest words Nova had ever heard. "Brussel sprout flavored candy. Here try one." Taking one small green candy out of the box he began to approach her slowly. "Here try one. Everyone who eats the candy had always reported they loved it... In fact, all of them are here why don't you come tell her?"

As if on cue, the back door of the store broke open as about twenty people slowly walked into the store, and like the man they all had Brussel sprouts for the head. A lifeless voice came from each of them, all muttering the same word. "Brussel sprouts..." Immediately she had found herself cornered! She felt hands grab her body as the zombies would begin to seize hold of her as they shoved the disgusting candies into her mouth. While she had tried her best to eject the foul substance, the zombies merely held her lips and nose close as they forced her to swallow them, finding herself nearly choking on all the candies in her mouth. All she was able to remember before her world turned black was the unyielding moan for Brussel sprouts and

Upon awakening, Nova had found herself in a dark room, bound to a chair. A dim light had shone in front of her, revealing the face of the man behind all of this. While his face showed no emotion, it was clear that he had malicious intent. Struggling to break free of her binds, she began to pull at the rope, only for them to chafe her skin. "Let me go!" She ordered forcefully. However, instead, she was met with a blank stare. After she had finally given up trying to escape from her binds a voice came from his direction once again.

"Are you done struggling?"

"What do you want?" As if on cue one of the zombies had wheeled a cart right next to her containing several sharp tools and strangely enough a brussel sprout the size of her own head. Eyes widening in fear, she immediately began to struggle against her binds once more. "Let me go! What do you want? I got money just leave me alone!"

"What I want is for you to experience the deliciousness that is brussel sprouts. However, humans like yourself have never been able to appreciate it's taste. Even if you lie, I can see the disgust in your eyes. That's why I dedicated my life to showing other human beings that brussel sprouts are delicious. And the only way to do that is to replace their heads with one. Don't worry this will hurt a lot for only five minutes, afterward, you won't feel anything at all ever again but the intense desire for brussel sprouts."

"You psycho!" She shouted as she tried to break free. To her surprise, the rope on her right wrist was beginning to loosen however she wasn't able to let the man know or else he would tighten it again. Taking the scalpel from the cart and placing it on her neck, he hesitated for one moment.

"Do you have any last words?" She said nothing, understanding this was her only opportunity. Taking this opportunity she quickly freed her wrist as she clenched her hand into a fist and punched the brussel man in his unnatural head. Her punch had knocked him off his guard for a second as he stumbled back, allowing her the opportunity to grab one of the nearby tools and cut her restraints. Immediately the zombies who were hiding in the shadows immediately came after her, however grabbing as many sharp tools as possible, she was ready to fight her way out. Nova sure as hell wasn't going to stay now that she knew what would happen to her.

Immediately she began to slice the knives at their leafy heads, tearing them apart as she ran to escape. It was enough of a distraction to keep them down momentarily however, it did not kill them. Gritting her teeth she decided her best option was to escape. Turning around and noticing the dimly illuminated door she immediately began to make a beeline for it, only to be stopped by the man when she reached the door. "You're not going anywhere." He stated.

Without hesitation, Nova took the sharpest and largest knife as she slashed across his neck. "If you won't let me through then die!" The brussel sprout had detached from his neck as the man fell to his knees before collapsing dead on the ground. She didn't have enough time to celebrate her kill, she needed to leave now. Busting the door down, Nova ran through the night, the only sensation she was aware of was relief that she was able to escape being turned into a brussel sprout. She wasn't sure when she had fallen unconscious but the next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed in the morning.

Was this all a dream? Regardless or not, Nova was glad she was able to escape the fate worse than death. Yawning as she got out of her bed, she began her morning routine as she approached the mirror. But to her horror and shock she didn't see the face she would always see in the morning staring back at her. The man's laughter echoed in her head as she let out a scream as she found herself staring at a brussel sprout instead of her head staring back at her in the mirror.
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Alexa Icnoyotl

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Alexa's Tracker Name : Alexa L. Icnoyotl
Age : 21
Race : Human
Faction : Pirate
Crew : Blue Hair Pirates
Ship : The Azure Night
Crew Position : Captain
Devil Fruit : Swim-Swim Fruit
Haoshoku : 0
Busoshoku | Kenbunshoku : 2
Attack (ATK) : 184
Defense (DEF) : 187
Reflex (RX) : 176
Willpower (WP) : 173
Level : 25
Experience Points : 2500
Berries : 10,050,000
Posts : 43

PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Sat Nov 18, 2017 8:28 pm

”Of all the days for it to get foggy, it would have to be today..” Alexa grumbled as she walked the deck of The Azure Knight. The wind had died out about an hour ago, and after that, the fog had rolled in. Without the wind to guide them, and with the fog making it impossible to see more than a few feet past the railing of the ship, Alexa had been forced to actually order her crew to drop the anchor until the fog passed. Of course, by now the crew was mostly downstairs. The only ones that had remained up on the top deck had been Pierce and Morris. Of course, as she walked the top deck, a familiar voice echoed through the area.

”Jeez. You’d think the fog would’ve let up by now!” Morris. Her first mate. The original owner of this ship. Still, Alexa sighed, running her hand through the flared back of her blue ponytail. ”Indeed. It’s a little strange, really. I don’t think we’ve ever been caught up in such a massive fog wall. It almost seems a little too well timed, especially given what day it is.” She said as she turned to face her trenchcoat wearing First Mate. When she brought up what day it was, Morris couldn’t help but blink. ”Right..Halloween. You think that’s got something to do wi-” He said before the fog became even thicker on the deck, and his now unconscious body hit the deck. Soon after that, another voice rang out from the upper deck.  ”Um..Captain..WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Shit. That was Pierce. He was still on the top deck.

Of course, she had no idea. However, she did hear several moans, and the scraping of fingernails against the wood of the hull. ”I have no idea Pierce..but Morris has passed out over here! Come get him and bring him down to the lower decks! We might have some intruders! She said as the wood beneath her feet started to waver like it was water, Alexa’s body slowly sinking into the surface of the wood as she started to swim through the ship. She needed to grab a few things. Her gloves? Already on her hands. She needed her swords. Her belt of explosives would normally be used in a situation like this too..but she didn’t need to have Edwynne on her ass about damaging the ship.

Of course, she heard most of the crew having a good time, albeit in a muffled manner. However, by the time she dove out of the wood that she had been swimming through and landed in her quarters..things had become almost eerily quiet. She picked up Unnoticed and Blackout, strapping the two sheathed swords onto her hips, the two handles resting in a fashion that many of the swordsman in the east blue employed. Now that she was armed, she took a deep breath..and slowly opened the door to her quarters. The fog that was surrounding the ship before had seeped into the ship itself. Normally, she would find that as being somewhat natural. However, there was one thing about this that most definitely was NOT natural. The utter silence of the ship. Something about this whole situation disturbed Alexa.

This definitely wasn’t normal. Something had happened. As she peered through the fog, that assumption became even more potent. The ship’s insides had shifted. The whole thing seemed to lead into dark pathways now, and the wood was stained dark, with several deeply dark red splotches resembling blood splatters covering parts of the wood. That included the outside of her door. As she stepped out of her room, the door slammed shut behind her, the whole thing slowly melding into the wood surrounding it until it was indistinguishable from the wall that was now behind her. Well. That certainly left her with few options. With a sigh, she drew Blackout, hefting it in her dominant hand. There was certainly need to be careful. As she slowly walked through the foggy interior of her own ship, Alexa started to hear things. The sound of pained moans, fingernails scraping against wood..but perhaps the thing that most made her hair raise was the sound that she knew by heart by now. Her own scream..the one she had let out upon finding the corpse of her father. Every fibre of her being was telling her to run in the other direction. This wasn’t natural. It was impossible. And yet, she found herself walking towards the source of the scream.

The scream itself had been echoing, and was sustained for a fair bit of time. But by the time she neared the kitchen, the scream was replaced by sobbing. As she pushed open the door to the kitchen, she saw why. In front of her was the source of her decision to become a pirate. Her father’s corpse. In front of it was..another her. One that was sobbing, her hands covering her face. As she stepped closer though, her other self stopped crying, and merely ran out of the kitchen. Still..she found herself standing in front of her father’s corpse. ”I’m sorry Dad. I’m gonna make sure that the person that did this to you will get what he deserves..” She said softly, her face stoic as she stared at the corpse. There weren’t any slash marks. The sword was buried up to the halfway point of the blade in his chest. An exact duplicate of the one she carried. He was even wearing the same outfit as he had been the last time she had seen him.

However, as she finished speaking, the corpse shifted. The sound of metal tearing against wood echoed throughout the kitchen as her father rose to his feet. Cry, cry cry..that’s all you want to do. The corpse said, a warped, guttural version of her father’s voice echoing out from his mouth as he wrapped a hand around the sword that was buried in his chest. As he tugged it free, the blade began to drip with a viscous, reddish-black sludge. The sound was utterly disgusting. It took on the sound of muscle being slowly, painstakingly pulled out of a wound by hand. The skin and tendons slurping as the blade was freed. But no matter how much you cry, you never accept that YOU killed me. Always shifting the blame to some other group, always trying to justify your own selfishness! The corpse said, his glazed over eyes seeming to glow with an inner anguish and flame.

As this twisted version of her father spoke, Alexa found herself taking shaky step after shaky step backwards, tears beginning to cloud her vision. ”N..No I didn’t! That corrupt captain killed you!” She said, her voice as shaky as her steps backwards. Her words earned a chuckle from the corpse that made her blood run cold. It was a cruel chuckle, none of the love or warmth that her father usually had was in it. ”Ah, don’t make me laugh. You know better than that. You ate that fruit. Eventually, you found out about this power you had. And that ended in my death. Therefore, YOU KILLED ME! He yelled as he swung Unnoticed at her, the sludge dripping from the blade being launched towards her, forcing her to duck out of the way. When it hit the wall, the sludge started to corrode the wall that it hit. ”T..this isn’t right! This isn’t you! She said as she swung her sword, tears spilling down her face as she clashed blades with her father, the two keeping their blades in a very solid clash until Alexa managed to push him back.

And why do you think I would treat my killer the same way I treated them before they killed me?! He asked, his voice dripping with malice as he swung at her again, leaving her to dip into the wooden floor of the ship, the uncovered tip of the sword slicing into the flesh of her exposed right arm. Thankfully, she didn’t get any of the sludge that previously covered the sword onto the wound. However, she had to steel her resolve as she moved throughout the room. Even if she didn’t want to, she had to defeat this..thing. As she surfaced, the being merely chuckled, especially when Alexa lowered Blackout, and her head.

Ahh, that’s a good girl. Now stand still. This won’t hurt a bit. He said as he raised the sword above his head. But, before he could do anything, Alexa grabbed hold of her own version of Unnoticed, yanking the weapon free of its sheath, slicing the being’s chest clean open, the red sludge spurting out in every direction as the blade cleaved through his body, causing Alexa to wince as she felt it sizzle against her flesh. After a few moments, the creature dropped to its knees, dissolving into nothing, the blade it carried dissolving away along with it. Once it was gone, she couldn’t help but drop to her knees, openly sobbing as she dropped her weapons. This was twice that she had lost her father now.

It took about twenty minutes of crying, surrounded by the sounds of the moans of pain and the scratching of fingernails against wood for Alexa to calm down. She picked up each of her weapons slowly, sheathing them in their respective spaces before she took a deep breath to calm herself down. As she looked around the kitchen, she saw that once again, the door she walked in through was gone. The thick fog however? Still there. As she looked around, she saw that there was only one door to actually walk through. Normally she would have used her ability to move through solid substances to just make her way through the ship. But this..this made her wary. She wasn’t sure what she was going to be getting herself into, but she didn’t like it. What made things worse was the fact that she had no idea where the rest of the crew was.

On top of all of that, she’d suffered some burns from that attack. It was obvious that whatever that creature was, it was more of an attempt to break her mentally than it was to actually defeat her. Still, she stood up. After picking her weapons up off of the ground, and placing them back in their sheathes, she walked through the door..only to feel the sudden sting of a blade come through her chest. She looked down with the slow shakiness of someone who only had mere moments left to live. And there it was. A blade, through her chest. She didn’t even have time to hear what the person who had literally backstabbed her would say as the blade pulled out of her chest with a horrifically wet scraping noise, as the blade slid against bone and muscle. Everything went dark..

”Alright. Better hurry and get changed. You don’t have all that much time before its time for your ghost to appear.” The man who had been playing her father said, offering his hand to help her up as she wiped the fake blood off of her top. ”Yeah..I should probably get going. Did you see the look on people’s faces though? I’m glad we decided to follow through with this little favor for you.” She said with a chuckle as she gave her uncle a hug. ”Alright, see you after the show!” She said as she rushed back to the dressing rooms.

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Well, if I have to be tracked. | Speech Color (#d2819f)
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Gray

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TrackerBioFighting StyleEquipment

Name : Gray Starks
Epithet : The Conqueror (Formerly "Black Fist")
Age : 49
Race : Cyborg
Faction : Pirate
World Position : Super Veteran (Former Yonkou)
Crew : Black Fist Pirates (Destroyed)
Ship : Fistful AKA "The Fist" (Destroyed)
Crew Position : Captain (Former)
Devil Fruit : Pressure-Pressure Fruit
Haoshoku : 9
Busoshoku | Kenbunshoku : 9
Attack (ATK) : 750
Defense (DEF) : 600
Reflex (RX) : 655
Willpower (WP) : 600
Level : 100
Experience Points : 10000
Bounty : 2,500,000,000
Income Multiplier : +10%
Berries : 25,000,000,000


Posts : 1139

PostSubject: Re: Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]   Mon Nov 20, 2017 12:13 am

I was hoping for more participants (and thus more voters), but since we have neither to even properly call this a contest, all current participants will be getting a 10 million berries participation prize. It's a shame that we were so short on contestants, but at least I enjoyed reading all of your stories. So, thank you for participating and please continue to do so!

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Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]
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» Halloween 2017! Short Story Contest! [CLOSED]
» The Talk (short story)
» Themed Short Story Contest - June 2017
» Best Short Story ((Ended!))
» He's A Player: Desperation (Short Story)

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