The Seven Days of Halloween : Stranded, Part 2

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Napoleon and Mark woke in unison to the pounding on their door, both reaching automatically for their weapons before hearing April's voice.

( Abandon hope all ye who enter )

Writer's (Actually Reader's) Choice

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

I thought I'd start the Hallowe'en season with an elegant little fic which proves that, however much we might love vampires and zombies for their own dear little sakes, we only need a touch of uncertainty for a first rate Hallowe'en story.

I think mrua7's Cat Noir has quite the Blackwood touch.

7 Days of Halloween - Begin Again

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is one that was written for the Halloween Challenge 2012 on mfu_scrapbook It isn't a typical Halloween story, I don't know if I have any of those; it does have an eerie and angsty feeling to it as IK is met by an unusual circumstance when in need of a solution.
Begin Again

Writer's Choice Halloween Edition: The Truest Thing

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

The Truest Thing

Something Illya cannot understand is happening.  The link takes you to AO3.

Mood-Y: Challenge 5 -- Posting Open

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Posting for Moody-Y: Challenge 5 is now open on section7mfu.

The mood for this fifth and final challenge is: SPOOKED.

Please be sure and give your post a subject reflective of the challenge (including a title for the story itself). Do use the mood-y tag to identify your story. As a courtesy, please remember to place the majority of your story under a cut.

Posting for the challenge will remain open through Saturday, November 1st.

Now let's all get SPOOKED!

The 7 Days of Halloween for WRITER'S CHOICE!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                                 

"Yo-ho!" for the Writer's Choice~7 Days of Halloween

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This fic was originally posted last year for the Halloween Challenge on scrapbook with the prompt by avrovulcan It's sort of a strange tale of the MFU meet the Chronicles of Narnia, and a particular version of Davy Jones and the flying Dutchman. Hope you enjoy it, as I had fun writing it!

 

The two UNCLE agents stared at the strange painting of a sailing ship, heading across a darkened ocean highlighted by the light of a huge full moon.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that painting was moving,”Napoleon whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“Not possible,”the Russian answered,”It must be some sort of optical illusion, a clever use of light and dark to make one think that.”

Napoleon studied the painting more intently.“So tell me what do you see tovarisch?”

“A ship sailing the ocean, with a rather large depiction of the moon in the background, and oh yes, some clouds in the sky...a few stars.” He shrugged his shoulders, not seeing anything odd at all.

“Doesn’t it look rather eerie to you, like a ghost ship...the Flying Dutchman?”

( Read more... )

(no subject)

[vysila.livejournal.com]

Just a reminder that sign-ups for this year's Down the Chimney Affair on muncle, sign-up post is here are closing in about 6 hours (that would be 5 pm EDT). There are still a few unclaimed prompts so if you've been thinking over whether to participate or not - now is the time!

Mood-Y: Challenge 5 -- THREE (Part 1)

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Name: THREE
Genre: GEN
Length: approx 11,250 words
Rating: Everyone
Warnings: Mild Language

The story is posted in two parts because of LJ posting restrictions on size:
Part 1: Prologue; Act I; Act II (contained in this post)
Part 2: Act III; Act IV; Epilogue



( Get spooked under the cut )

Mood-Y: Challenge 5 -- THREE (Part 2)

[carabele.livejournal.com]

The story is posted in two parts because of LJ posting restrictions on size:
Part 1: Prologue; Act I; Act II
Part 2: Act III; Act IV; Epilogue (contained in this post)

( Back to being spooked under the cut )

Halloween: Ghosts

[st-crispins.livejournal.com]

Ghosts

They come at night
When the room is still,
And the bed, unshared.
They come on waves of memory
That crash like breakers and
Wash away sleep.

There are hundreds, thousands;
They are legion.
This one’s throat was cut,
That one’s neck was broken.
This one burned, and
That one sizzled with electric current.
This one fell off a train.
That one plummeted from a roof.
This one was shot, and
That one was blown to bits.

They jostle each other
In the small, small space
Between waking and dreaming,
Angry, cursing, baring teeth,
Pointing to their festering wounds,
Wagging accusing fingers.

Because you see,
It was my knife that cut,
And my rope that garroted;
My lighter that flamed,
My hand at the switch.
I was the one who pushed
Or struggled,
Or stepped aside.
I pulled the trigger first,
Or hit the plunger.

But I feel no sympathy for them, or guilt.
They all deserved their fate.
They would have done the same to others
Or worse.
The only thing that stopped them
Was me standing in their path.

And so, I close my eyes to them
And turn into my pillow.
Eventually, frustrated,
They drift away.
I have no fear of ghosts.
They are all helpless, impotent now.
Just names in a file,
Stories told over drinks.
Fragments stored for a future memoir.
They can do no harm.

That doesn’t mean I sleep undisturbed.
Pills or liquor sit on my bed stand
More times than I can count.
Because it’s the ones that got away,
The one who are still out there,
Not yet ghosts,
Who keep me up at night.