Grave Encounters is a spook-tacular collection of ghost stories. We're delighted to announce the winner as Erin Short from London! Erin's story 'The Whisper In The Shadows' has won her a selection of new fiction book titles! Congratulations Erin!
Here is Erin's winning story:
The Whisper In The Shadows
It was one stormy evening the wind was a torrent of darkness when
nightmares galloped through the streets only visible under the slim black
street lamps. The trees whistled and danced violently, ferociously swaying
back and forth, crashing and smashing into each other, leaving nothing but
battered branches to attack.
I walked down the curved alleyways. My heart in my hands. My thoughts too
insane to control. My mind running riots inside me. I began to quiver with
anxiety. As I stammered on through the last angle of the alley, the street lamp
set off an aggressive flare of light.
The whisper in the shadows. Quietly, the whisper was heard from the
shadows, sending quivers down my back. The whisper whistled and echoed
through each of my ears. The sound bounced back and forth inside me. My
heart rate rapidly increasing.
It repeated several times, droning in my head. The street lamps flickered,
encircling the menacing whisper, keeping it hostage. Then, all fell silent, no
whisper nor storm to be heard. Finally, I could hear myself think!
Suddenly, the glass that held the whisper captive shattered into millions of
minuscule crystals. The whisper was released, free to echo off the alleyway
© Erin Beau Short
The Laurels School, London
Congratulations to our runners-up, Hosea Nsona from Stoke-On-Trent and Abbie Hosken from Bodmin, who each have won a pack of Stadtler Triplus Fineliners - happy creating!
Here are their winning words...
You're dripping with hot sweat. Your legs are aching. Your lungs are burning.
You wish I was here for reassuring words that would warm your now cold soul.
A strong, muscular hug. But I'm not. I'm gone. I'm dead. You're alone.
Something creaks. Your eyes widen and your heartbeat quickens. You must
carry on, despite the fatigue. Go! You stumble onto your feet like a newborn
gazelle. You gasp at the pain. What is it? You look down. Instinctively, you
cup the wound. Your eyes are heavy. You can't breathe. You reach out. I'm not
there... You're alone.
A tear runs down your dirty face. You stagger towards the door. You reach for
the handle but a bloodstained hand reaches it before you. You fall back. It's
gone. Hesitantly, you lift up your hand. It's scarred and bloodstained. Croaky,
choked breathing creeps into hearing range. A slight rhythmic breeze runs
down your back making you shiver. You swallow down a sob. Your throat feels
like sandpaper. You slowly turn your head...
You were alone, now...
A grinning face greets you. Wide, white eyes pierce your soul. Bloodstained
teeth tell you what's happened to you. You close your eyes. You open them
slowly. You're swamped with blood. Your blood. The pain is all gone. You stand
up and see me in the distance. Your saviour. Your rock. You run. You smile. You
You are not alone.
© Hosea Nsona (15)
Most ghost stories begin and end when everything is a dark abyss of curiosity.
Your orbs, so youthful and naive, focus on the dull forms of matter that emit
the light you so desperately crave. Of course, you have your other senses
to rely on; you can hear the trees groaning as they battle the midnight wind
and the taste of fear mingling with curiosity on your tongue. Now, the border
between fantasy and reality is a blur. That is what provokes the continuous
sense of fear, because you do not know but can only imagine. There is
nothing more manipulative than your mind.
Many of you believe in the spirits you can see, the translucent beings with
haunted looks in their sunken eyes, shining with a peculiar, supernatural aura.
You believe the spirits will glide through your walls, the walls that keep you
'safe', and seize you. Pathetic.
You think you can see the scariest things in the world? It is your thoughts that
drag you into the darkest corner of your mind; your theories that blind your
logic. They are bound to you; fingertips of the past brushing your flesh, leaving
a trail of goosebumps in their wake, burning memories into the coldest corner
of your mind.
Suddenly, breaking the tension that fills you, your eyes snap open. Your breath
leaves your feeble body, a relieved smile gracing your lips. You have no idea
that you can never escape. Nobody can ever escape, for I am Death.
© Abbie Hosken (14)